Been Here All Along
by Klainebow Bright
Summary: Kurts cheerios star male cheerleader. Blaine is Mckinleys biggest nerd. They've been BFFs since they were 7 but Kurt has no idea that Blaine loves him. Sebastian makes his move& Blaine must find courage to tell Kurt he loves him. cheerio!kurt nerd!blaine
1. Prologue

Prologue

Blaine met Kurt when they were seven years old. When walking his dog Bowtie in the park he'd seen a boy holding onto a tree and leaning into the stream to retrieve a hat that was snagged on a rock. The boy had hazelnut hair with skin as pale as bread and his features were screwed in concentration as his hand shook and flexed in the empty air between him and the hat.

He ran up to the boy with Bowtie at his heels and asked if he could help. When he looked him in the face he got his first glimpse of bright blue eyes and pearly white teeth and the boy took his hand in Blaine's. Not only was his skin as pale as bread but it was as soft as well and Blaine felt tingles like pins and needles in his palm.

Taking hold of the tree again Blaine leaned and closed the gap to the hat and looked up to see the boys staring at him with a beaming smile and the world fell away… literally. Blaine's hand in the boys had begun to sweat and he fell out of his grasp and into the stream where he was dragged down quickly.

The boy and Bowtie ran after him up the stream until the dog made a giant leap into the water to swim after Blaine. They both went under the bridge and the boy with hazelnut hair ran to the end of the bridge and waited, and waited. He was twisting around frantically looking for help when he heard the dog barking and saw him pulling the boy up by the scruff of his shirt.

The boy ran to the waters edge and pulled Blaine up with both hands panting until they both collapsed on the springy grass. Between pants Blaine sat up and held the hat up tightly in his fist and exclaimed: "I.. I… G-Got it!"

The pale little boy who'd mostly been relieved that the boy with dripping dark curls was alive and on land suddenly grasped it in his hands and then flung his arms tightly around drenched and shivering Blaine. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" He said and released him holding out a delicate hand and pronounced, "I'm Kurt!"

Blaine looked into those twinkling blue eyes again and then gulped and took his hand and shook it almost business like, "I'm Blaine," then winced. "My leg I think… I think I broke it." As the shock had worn off Blaine's eyes began to brim with fat little tears and Kurt looked concerned but defiant as he locked eyes with Blaine and said:  
>"Don't worry, I'll look after you."<p>

Blaine had indeed broken his leg but true to his word Kurt took care of Blaine. He went to his house everyday. The first time he came he brought a large pink bag full of colouring pens and drew elaborate curling designs all over his cast.

The next time he brought a little juke box and performed a dance for him complete with rolly pollies and a flip for the big finish (Kurt was learning to be a gymnast.)

On a day when the rain poured and hammered on the roof Kurt pulled all of the many books Blaine had on his shelves (Blaine wanted to be a librarian because he loved books so much) and Kurt built tall skyscrapers. He pretended they were in New York and told Blaine that it was his dream to live there and one day they would go together.

One day he brought an orange plastic box full of the most delicious cookies Blaine had ever tasted, made by him and his mum (the hat had been hers). Kurt had spread a picnic blanket on the floor of Blaine's bedroom with care and set up little teacups with stars painted on them. They pretended to sip tea and ate the cookies, which were cut into stars to match the cups. They had to be really careful because these were his mummies from when she'd been a little girl and Kurt loved his mummy very much.

Some time after their tea party Kurt began to split his time between visiting Blaine in the morning and his mummy in the evening because she'd suddenly had to move into the big hospital in the city. His big and hairy father Burt would pick Kurt up from Blaine's and they'd drive away together with Blaine leaning on his crutches in the porch as Kurt waved enthusiastically from the window.

But as the weeks went past and summer was coming towards the end Kurt's waving was becoming less and less enthusiastic and sparkle in his eyes began to dim until they began to resemble the water Blaine had fallen into when they first met.

One night Blaine heard the sound of pebbles smacking his window and he looked out to find Kurt standing under his window, he whispered into the night, "Can I come up?" Blaine nodded and Kurt climbed up the porch trellis, along the roof and through Blaine's window. The room was dark asides from the glowing stars Kurt had glued to his ceiling one summers afternoon.

Kurt's eyes were dark and ringed with red and Blaine's heart had melted, he wanted to do anything to make Kurt feel better. Kurt told Blaine what his mummy and daddy had told him earlier that there would be a day very soon where she wouldn't be here any more. Kurt began to sob and Blaine awkwardly with his cast between them wrapped his arms as tightly around Kurt's shoulders as he could, and told him: "I promise I will never leave you."

Only a week later the boys dressed in black suits with little black bowties had stood side by side as Kurt's mother's coffin, covered in red and yellow roses, was slowly lowered into the ground. Kurt had cried silently and Blaine had clutched his hand as tightly as the day they'd met when they'd rescued his mother's hat.

Shortly after they broke apart, Kurt walked hand in hand with his father away from the mourners and Kurt had looked back at Blaine with sad eyes and just the smallest of smiles pricking the edge of his mouth before he looked up at his dad and then disappeared through the trees.

Blaine's cast came off the last day of summer and then the boys started elementary school together. Kurt was popular with the girls in his class who liked to run and dance with him but Blaine didn't fit in. The children called him boring and made fun of his bowties. Sometimes they'd pull his curly hair or hide his books on tall shelves where he and his short legs couldn't reach.

But Kurt stood true to his word from when they first met, he looked after Blaine and they stayed best friends through elementary school, middle school and eventually McKinley High School. Kurt became more and more popular and joined the famous league of cheerleaders called the 'Cheerio's' run by the formidable coach Sue Sylvester while Blaine retreated further and further into his books and his shell. No-one could really understand why top of the pyramid Kurt Hummel would hang out with bottom of the food chain Blaine Anderson but as Kurt was true to his word so was Blaine.

He never left Kurt.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Blaine was fumbling. He'd just had three straight AP classes back to back with no break to hit his locker and the pile in his hands was on the brink of land sliding all over the floor. He was half successfully holding onto the pile with one arm, while his glasses slid down his nose and trying to spin the right combination into the dial with the other hand when he finally managed to flick the door open.

He dumped his books in with the relaxed sigh and pushed the glasses back up his nose. With his glasses now in place he was greeted by the vivacious smiling face of Kurt Hummel in the photos pinned to the door.

Kurt's name chimed with reverence in his head. He was Blaine's best friend and they had been best friends since they were seven years old, a full decade which in this day and age was something of a miracle. They'd somehow managed to sidestep the drama most friendships at this school suffered on a daily basis and had probably the most solid relationship of anyone else in the school.

Probably because romance was never a factor, at least not for Kurt, but Blaine on the other hand… Blaine had pretty much been a goner since seven-year-old Kurt had looked at him with those sapphire twinkling eyes. And it had only gotten worse as they'd gotten older.

As Kurt had catapulted up the social stratosphere Blaine had sunk slowly like he was stuck in quick sand eventually hitting the very bottom of the high school food chain. Even the janitors would avoid be see with him Blaine thought. His only friends were the handful of kids in glee club and of course Kurt.

Blaine might not be quite as far down as he was but with a sister like his Rachel fricking Anderberry it made him a social pariah. The girl had no filter and was loud – fourth of July vs. midday at New York pride loud…

His locker suddenly slammed and there she stood tapping her foot like a jackhammer. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly before opening it again to block her face and grab his world history textbook. "I assume you had a reason for that snobbit," he called her coolly. They'd both gotten the nickname hobbit… for obvious reasons and being a total snob about her 'divine talent' (her words no-one else's) he'd taken to calling her snobbit.

She scowled and began drawling shrilly, "I hope you're happy Blaine, I suppose you realise you've ruined my life… again!" He rolled his eyes for the second time reordering the books in his locker. "Hallelujah! It's finally happened! Dear sister please inform he as to which of my many well calculated plans has finally succeeded in ruining your life."

"Urgh you don't even care you don't even KNOW!" She was practically yelling in the corridor now. "For someone who spends so much of his time with his big nose stuck in books…" Blaine cut in, "Uh lets not bring noses into this one Rachel cause you and I both know you're the one…" he was tapping the end of his nose but he didn't get to finish his sentence because she suddenly gasped clutching her nose drama queen style and ran away up the corridor.

She shoved past Kurt who only laughed and walked up to Blaine, "What's up with your sister today? Did you finally break the news that Barbara Streisand isn't her real birth mother?" Blaine took his self allotted two seconds to drink Kurt in, his Hazelnut hair, snow white skin, rose petal lips and sparking sapphire eyes before switching back to reality.

"Don't mind her she's just pissed because… actually no idea this time, suddenly the topic of my apparently 'big nose' came up and well, you know I couldn't just leave that one alone..." Kurt was shaking with laughter and Blaine smiled back pushing the glasses back up his nose. When Kurt finally managed to compose himself he bit his bottom lip and scrunched up his nose.

"Oh Blaine… Smart, wonderful, generous Blaine… I am in need of a favour," at that he thrust a Lima Bean bag into Blaine's hand. "This is a sweet attempt at bribery Kurt but you know I can get these for free at work right?" Kurt tutted "Yes I'm aware but for the sake of your borderline ass I'd never let you blow it up by eating the free muffins. Besides you only get the stale ones free, this one is fresh!"

Blaine relented and took the bag peeking in, starting to salivate slightly. "Ooooo Strawberry and White chocolate! My favourite, but the calorie count… oh jeeze this isn't going to be a favour I'm not gonna want to do is it?"

Kurt looked sheepish but released the lip from between his teeth and started to babble. "The tournament is in one month and Brittany is flunking tremendously I don't think the girl even managed to spell her name right on her last few tests. They don't expect her to get a decent grade but she needs at least a C on her next Math and Spanish exam or they're going to fail her! Santana is going to help her with Spanish naturally but we desperately need someone to tutor her in math and you know I barely make grade with the boring classes as it is! So I was wondering…"

"Oh Kurt no, god please no! The last time you left me in a room alone with her she spent the entire night trying to make out with me. How many times can you say I'm gay, this is not okay!"

"But without Brittany we'll be seriously handicapped and we need her for the dance solo. Without her we're not going to place and then my dreams for New York are going to go up in smoke!"

"Kurt… it's impossible, I don't think she can even count there's no way…" he cut of quietly at the end because he was suddenly aware of the light weight of Kurt's hand on Blaine's that was holding his text book. "Please pleeeeease Blaine," Kurt looked Blaine straight on, pleading with those big doe like sapphire eyes.

"You're going to have to make this up by baking me soooo many cookies…" but he couldn't be heard anymore because Kurt was jumping and clapping and beaming. "Thank you thank you! I promise! And I promise to use the real ingredients this time, no more butter fakery!" And with that he picked up his bag and began to saunter away, suddenly twisting around with the grace of a ballerina he yelled, "I'll see you tonight!"

Blaine grazed his fingertips over the skin of his hand where Kurt had just touched it. The spot was prickling with pins and needles.

* * *

It was about 8:45 on Friday night and The Lima Bean was deserted, the last person had left around 10 minutes ago and had spent the last couple of hours systematically licking the contents out of about 25 packets of sweet and low while a black coffee sat untouched beside them.

The only occupants on view were Blaine who was scrubbing the grinds of coffee off a tray he'd pulled out from under the grinder and Kurt who was sat perched up on the marble counter, legs crossed and leaning back on one palm the other hand holding his iphone effortlessly dancing across the screen with his thumb as he texted continuously.

Kurt was still in his Cheerio's uniform having just left possibly his most gruelling practise yet. Sue was staging a performance to include sky dancing (or whatever it was you called those hanging silks circus performers used) and Kurt had rather indelicately complained of the aching in his quote 'delicate regions'. He was a natural at multitasking conversations and though his eyes and thumb never left the screen he was managing to maintain a coherent conversation with Blaine.

"It's like she forgets I even have a delicate region! I know I might sing and dance like a girl but I still have a…" Kurt yammered away until his voice seemed to phase out like someone had suddenly twisted the speakers low on a radio. Blaine had barely looked up from his scrubbing in 10 minutes, determined to rid every last spec of the grinds and happy to listen Kurt as usual as he regaled him on the social cliques in school he wasn't a part of and cheerleading practise with Satan herself – Sue Sylvester.

He suddenly looked up at Kurt through his heavy lashes and wiped an arm across his just glistening forehead -"What? Did you finally short out your tongue? Although from what you were telling me earlier about Santana I'd of thought she's be the one…"

Kurt broke in, "Hush! No, you'll never guess, Finn just text me, Dad's got one of those last minute deals on a flight to Hawaii next week. He and Carole are finally taking that honeymoon they've been talking about since the wedding… Sooo you know what this means?" He looked at Blaine expectantly waiting for the answer which, seemed so obvious to him.

Blaine shrugged and replied: "They'll bring you back that grass skirt you've secretly been wanting?" Kurt grabbed a handful of little pink packets of sweet and low and tossed them at Blaine, "No… well yes, no but argh! PARTY! P.A.R.T.Y!" And while Kurt was beaming and doing something of a shimmying dance move on the bar Blaine was groaning and rolling his eyes.

"Oh come on how can't you be excited? You can't still be ticked off from the last time." Kurt whined slightly. "Well yeah I can a little bit, you made out with my sister. And that's the Disney translation of what went on between your mouths. I still can't scrub that mental image from my mind. Even walking in on my dads couldn't compare…" Blaine went on.

"Oh come on Blaine, I was drunk off my ass on Cherry flavoured wine coolers and even you have to admit in some lights Rachel does look like a butch Elijah Wood. Besides it was spin the bottle, it would have been rude to not plant one on her and if there's one thing that I am most definitely not is rude."

Blaine snorted and slid the tray back under the grinder. "As much as I might agree – although would outright deny it if Rachel were to ask me – with what you just said, that does not excuse you of the consequences that kiss lead to. Or are you forgetting her rendition of Natural Woman she performed for you in Glee club, which she made me spend a week practising on guitar so I could back her up?"

He moved around the bar and started collecting the few stray coffee mugs and paper cups that were left over from the pre movie rush just a couple hours before. "You know Blaine, although you may not believe this statement you can just say no to Rachel, in fact I'd seriously advise it, the only good idea she ever had was dragging you into Glee Club in the beginning. But since then, she hasn't managed to get a single thing from her wardrobe to her set list right since. And besides I let her down very gently."

"You thanked her for solidifying your status as a homosexual and suggested she ditch the bobby socks if she wanted to win the affections of a straight man in future," Blaine stated grimacing at the sticky mess of jam from an abandoned knife left on one of the tables. "That was constructive criticism and the 21st century equivalent of it's not you it's me. Translation: it's not you it's your hoo har, I prefer ding-dongs," he finished giggling.

Blaine very nearly dropped everything out of his arms and non-to subtly stumbled clacking all the mugs in his arms. Kurt laughed out louder and then resumed his texting.

"Anyway, Finn has set me up with the perfect segway from ding dongs, he's already scored food for the party – not that the cheerio's will be consuming any. Sue's put us on the strictest of diets yet: mung bean broth with cyan pepper and for snacks - leather, like we're supposed to chew it or something, good for the teeth and gives your mouth a distraction or something... anyway thank Gaga I'm still allowed to drink coffee, well just straight black coffees, something about piping hot enemas or something else disturbingly grim, but my skinny mocha a day habit is out till after the tournament." Kurt's eyes never left the screen throughout his monologue.

Blaine was about to interject, after all Kurt didn't need to worry about diets, his body was perfect…. beautiful… soft… His mind was wandering through this train of thought when the door banged open and a group of three boys and two girls strolled in.

The distinctive Navy blazers with red piping and embolic Ds gave them away as Dalton Academy students - they'd sung against this school last year at Regionals and the uniforms were kind of hard to miss, Blaine had to admit they made just about every boy in them about 20% hotter. He assumed the girls were from the sister school Crawford Country day although he wasn't familiar with their uniform.

The girls were hanging off the arms of an Asian boy and a boy with blonde hair the colour of sand whilst the third boy sauntered up to the bar with the air of a boy who had everything and cared about nothing. He took an exaggerated look at Blaine's name tag, gave him a quick look once up and down and smirked opening his mouth: "Right Blaine I'll have a latte with a shot of courvoisier and I imagine my less cultured acquaintances will have hot chocolates." His voice was oily and one of the girls cut in somewhat shrilly "Make ours diet." Blaine was momentarily stumped as he watched the creeper rake his eyes up and down Kurt's body still perched atop the counter only now just looking up from his phone.

Blaine finally found his voice and stated "I'm sorry you can get an ice coffee from the fridge but the coffee machine is turned off." The boy in the blazer opened his mouth and said, "That's kind of funny cause I feel nothing but turned on." He winked at Kurt leering like some kind of feral Meerkat in heat. Blaine had never so instantly disliked a person so much before.

Kurt pursed his lips but looked intrigued giving something of a casual glance at this boy as well. Blaine couldn't argue, the boy was hot, his hair was quaffed in a casual by stylish way hinting at a high price tag with a strong jaw line and gleaming pearlescent teeth, like some lecherous shark Blaine thought. Kurt placed the phone next to him, which buzzed with a new message and placed his hands candidly in his lap. "You and your horde look somewhat familiar, wait a minute... didn't we trounce you last year at regionals?" Kurt reflexively fluttered his lashes and smirked.

"Impossible, I'm a new senior at Dalton, I just transferred from school in Paris. But perhaps you trounced my halfwit boys here, is that right Jeff?" He said to the blond boy as the other was somewhat occupied with his female friends tongue. "Hey you might of beat us last year but you're not gonna stand a chance after what you hear what my boy Sebastian can croon." Figured his name was something pretentious like Sebastian Blaine thought, the slutpig probably had crabs to match his name.

The banter might have gone on if Blaine's assistant manager Puck hadn't just crashed out of the back office with his bang buddy (Puck's words, not his) Lauren Zizes. They were flushed and he was somewhat hurriedly grabbing his coat. "Right Ken dolls, we're closing up early, me and the Zeizmonster are taking my Rover up the dirt trail for a little round four, I'd explain but I think you've pretty much nailed that lesson." Blaine was revolted and mortified whilst Kurt flipped him off and resumed texting on his phone although not with quite as much concentration as he afforded a subtle glance under his lashes at blazer boy.

The Blazer clag boys and girls were being herded out the door by a hurried Puck but Sebastian took a final moment to drawl something at Kurt. "Was nice to finally meet you Kurt." Kurt sat bolt upright surprised and the boy carried on, "Yes of course I know who you are Kurt, there's only one male Cheerio who's to quote my reliable source 'sex on a stick'." He leered one final time before disappearing out the door with his cohorts.

"Come ON Lame Anderberry, you know the magic of the Zeizmonster will break at midnight." Puck whined as Lauren laughed from the doorway giving something of a meaty come hither stare as she walked away. "We've still gotta cash up and put these cups away, you know Quinn'll bust a lung if we leave this place in a tip again." Blaine interjected referring to the manager of the coffee shop.

"Whatever, lock up when you're done and don't be late tomorrow, dunno when I'll be in, depends how long I go tonight," Puck said flinging the keys at Blaine. Kurt cut in just as Puck was leaving the door, "I thought you said her 'magic' ended at midnight?" Puck looked over his shoulder to make sure Lauren was out of range and stated. "There's plenty more fish ready to swim in my tank after I'm through with Zizes," he then slammed the door shut rattling the open sign. Blaine stalked over to flip the sign around and locked the door to stop any more vagrants like Sebastian slithering in.

"Well that was a little slice of interesting in an otherwise average Friday night at the Lima Bean." Kurt mused hopping off the bar at last and brushing his uniform of imaginary lint. "That's one way to put it…"

Blaine was distracted, he hated that nickname, I mean a gay nerd in high school is cause for a lot of creative nicknames but that name had stuck since he was eight years old and a group of already somewhat burley boys had first called him it and pushed him in the mud in the playground. Kurt had been doing headstands on the swings during the altercation but had run over and taken him into the bathroom to wash his hands and clothes as best he could. Had even given him his purple sweater to wear the rest of the day.

Not to mention Blaine was still reeling from the spanner in his works, i.e. Sebastian. It was one thing to be completely in love with the hottest boy in school but at least when that boy was gay in a small town in Ohio. Kurt didn't have a lot of choices in the dating pool so he didn't have to often go through the pain of watching Kurt flirt with attractive boys, boys like Sebastian…

He picked up the last cup and started to put them in the sink ready to wash when Kurt gasped holding onto one of the Lima bean paper cups. "Sebastian left me his number!" Kurt squeaked. The cup in Blaine's hand fell out of his hand and smashed in the sink.

But Kurt barely registered this as he started to babble. "I mean he was sort of cute in a, I look like I just stepped off the runway and I so know it kind of way but he goes to that school and you know how much of a sucker I am for a cute blazer, and he just came out of school in Paris, PARIS! Do you know what kind of things that boys probably seen and learnt?" I can just imagine what the slutpig learnt in Paris Blaine thought then suddenly hissed loudly.

While Kurt had been babbling he'd unsuccessfully tried to extricate the broken crockery from the sink and there was now a small red gash oozing blood from his hand. Blaine hated the sight of blood, Kurt was a big fan of Greys's Anatomy and had made him camp out with him one night to get season 6 DVDs, he had to shut his eyes through half of it. So the sight of his own blood was enough to make him a little more than woozy.

Kurt rushed around and took Blaine's bleeding hand in his small ones, which Blaine very half-heartedly tried to brush off. However Kurt stubbornly took the finger gently but firmly and put it under a cold tap, which he then proceeded to run. "Geeze Blaine your finger is bleeding like a geizer, I'm gonna grab some bandages. Keep it there till I get back, don't worry, I'll look after you."

And even though both Blaine's finger and heart were throbbing painfully he couldn't help but notice that no matter the circumstances Kurt could always raze pins and needles when he touched him.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter 2

After what eventually became a later close than Blaine anticipated largely due to his hand, which took a somewhat worryingly long time to stop bleeding he'd finally gotten home around 10:15, having dropped Kurt off at home first. Kurt did not have his Navigator at the present time because his father was holding it prisoner at his garage after Kurt had miscalculated the space between his car and his stepmother's in the driveway and crashed it.

He might have forgiven him and returned it by now had he not found out that this had occurred due to Kurt yammering down the phone to Mercedes at the time. Burt had exasperatedly yelled at Kurt and asked him why he couldn't be as responsible a human as Blaine. Blaine had mentally kicked Burt in the jewels for that one, he didn't need anymore reason for Kurt to see him as a total nerd he was. Lucky for Kurt he was never short on offers for a lift and when he wasn't being driven by Santana or Mercedes Blaine was happy to give Kurt a ride. He blushed like a girl at the phrasing in his own mind.

He walked into the kitchen to retrieve some kind of snack to take back to his room when he saw the Pizza box on the side with a note sat atop:

Saved you some Pizza in case you were hungry. I'm helping your father with fag hag Friday at Scandals tonight and Rachel is over at Tina's house working on your routine for sectionals. We've already walked Bowtie, no doubt he'll be dead to the world by the time you read this. Love you Dads x

Blaine's father Leroy owned the only gay bar within 65 miles and it wasn't unusual for Hiram his other father to help out on special nights. All of a sudden as if waiting for his cue there was a sudden ripping noise through the kitchen coming from the pillow bed under the kitchen table. Bowtie was lying flat on his back his wide belly exposed as he snored with the vigour of middle-aged plumber. Blaine chuckled and popped the pepperoni pizza into the microwave to heat up. While waiting he filled a glass with milk and went to check for post.

Waiting for him was a package from Amazon with a new textbook for college level calculus and _The Amber Spyglass _by Philip Pullman. Blaine was already four pages in when the timer pinged loudly in the kitchen. With the books, pizza and milk he struggled up the stairs to his room. It was pitch black asides from the one star which struggled to glow amongst the rest which had given out years ago, relics of Kurt and Blaine's first summer as friends.

Blaine managed to flick the light on with his elbow and popped the milk and pizza on the large oak desk next to his laptop, missing the pile of cogs and watch faces. One of Blaine's favourite hobbies was to fix old and broken pocket watches, one of which he had gifted to Kurt for his birthday last year. The rest happily ticked in deep-set frames on the wall behind his laptop above a line of perfectly ordered and also framed photos. He turned the laptop on and while that was loading he placed _The Amber Spyglass _on his nightstand and went to catalogue the textbook. He wasn't going to need it until winter break when he'd be attending a mixer for potential new college candidates - although it was more geared as a social occasion; Blaine liked to be mentally prepared.

He was planning to eventually go into accountancy or investment banking as he really did have a head for numbers. When Blaine was little he'd thought he would grow up to be librarian but had changed his mind his mind to become a writer, he just loved to live in fictional worlds and figured he'd write epic fantasy novels. But his guidance councillor had noted that this wasn't exactly the most practical of dreams and if Blaine was anything at all he was practical and had locked those dreams away with the memories of his childhood.

His books were sorted according to the Dewey decimal system across three wide floor to ceiling bookcases, which dominated the back wall. Kurt had on one study session in Blaine's room once placed a book on Aztec history in amongst a selection of maths textbooks and Blaine had immediately darted up to rectify the order. Kurt had cut in exasperatedly, "Jeeze Blaine I know you're gay but there's no reason to be sooo _anal." _To which Blaine had started chocking on Kurt's fat free popcorn. Kurt had rolled over on Blaine's bed shaking with laughter. The sudden memory of Kurt lying out on his bed convulsing was a very _distracting _image.

He was pulled out of his memories by the sudden chiming of his laptop, which had finished loading. Pulling up a new browser window he started to tuck into the pizza, which by the time he'd checked his emails were just stale crusts abandoned on the plate. He tapped the tops of the keys lightly with his fingertips.

_He should start researching study tips for remedial students_ he thought, Brittany would be meeting him after his shift tomorrow to start studying and he had no idea where to start. Not to mention it was never to early to start researching books for his English critique due shortly after the winter break, only two and a half months away.

But his mind was niggling away at the previous events of the night. Sebastian had gotten right under his skin and had flirted shamelessly with Kurt. Not to mention he'd left Kurt with his number. All the way home Kurt had been ringing the top of the paper cup with his finger babbling away about this and that but had had a somewhat far away and distracted expression.

Blaine finally relented and began the process of stalking Sebastian. It didn't take too long for him to find his Facebook page and was pleased to see that his profile was open to all. _As were his legs _he mused. His profile picture was casual, but calculated. He had a cocky crooked side grin like he was sharing a secret dirty little joke, looking a little off to the side as if to suggest he was part of a large unseen crowd. The informal polo was popped at the collar, but with a friend like Kurt Blaine could tell the item probably cost more than a month's wages at the Lima Bean.

Blaine's photo was startlingly different. He never photographed well and had eventually chosen his yearbook picture. Blaine had an unruly mop of curls that resembled what a person might look like if they licked their fingers before putting them in a light socket. So from the age of thirteen he had taken to pouring on the hair products and combing it until it looked like what Kurt had affectionately dubbed _the gelmit._ Combined with his pointed eyebrows that made him look perpetually surprised, rectangle glasses and his standard attire of a bowtie, shirt and cardigan - he looked like a child. No wonder Kurt would ever see him differently he thought miserably. But the biggest difference between his and Sebastian's pictures was that Sebastian's exuded confidence, to which Blaine had none.

The next thing he noticed was the boy's friend count. He had 457 friends! Blaine wondered if he'd even _met _that many people. Blaine's friend count was a measly 41, not even 10% of Sebastian's staggering amount. He'd lived in Paris and London, and travelled beyond that, a photo album showed many holiday snaps from Athens to Rio. He liked a lot of bands, half of which Blaine hadn't even heard of. He was on the Dalton Lacrosse team. He'd even had a bit part in an indie movie.

Blaine felt well and truly _screwed_.

Deflated he quickly skimmed his own feed. Mike was in Baltimore at a family reunion, his status alerting all that he was 'having a nice time' – _the boy had a real way with words_, he thought sarcastically but with genuine affection. Asides from Kurt Mike was Blaine's closest friend having met at Math-Magician camp they'd bonded over their uncanny abilities to make remainders _disappear!_ This would explain why Tina suddenly had some free time for Rachel (although of all her options why Rachel he pondered). Speaking of which Tina had left a somewhat cryptic status: **My voice might be sharp but at least it wouldn't poke someone's eye out like the shnoz.**

The downstairs door suddenly slammed and Blaine heard a scuffle followed by stamping up the Stairs. His door was flung open and Blaine started, upsetting the remainder of his milk, which he narrowly managed to catch. "Jeeze Rachel! I thought we'd established that knocking was a requirement at all times!" There was a very good reason for this rule. A humiliating and life scarring reason that he and Rachel had made a non-verbal pact to never talk about again…

"What's that over your dress?" Blaine said banishing the disturbing image from his mind. "Banoffee Pie!" She replied acidly. "ARGH! She's so infuriating! I made a few minor suggestions that could drastically improve her performance. And-and she flipped out like some kind of lunatic! And threw her pie all over me!" She gestured to her dress and Blaine noted amusedly the small piece of banana that topped her head like a cherry. "Why do people never realise I know better?" she stated with the dramatics of a small town production of Hamlet.

"Hate to break it to you sis but I for one can vouch that you don't know _everything_." Blaine said and suddenly realised that was the wrong thing to stay. Rachel strode over and kicked the lever under Blaine chair so it fell to its smallest height. Placing one hand on his right armrest she poked him between the eyes with the index finger of the other. "I have NOT forgotten what you did Blaine. Mark my words. My revenge will be swift and like this pie on my dress – _severved cold."_

With that she stormed out slamming the door which knocked the dragon poster that had been tacked to the back. Blaine adjusted his chair back to the correct height and went to rehang the poster with careful precision. Slumping back in his chair he pinched the bridge of his nose behind the glasses. He really had no idea what she was going on about, but this wasn't uncommon. He'd given up caring a long time ago. _Get through the rest of this year and I'll be at college. No more insane sister. _

The still open Facebook page pinged with a message.

Kurt: _You still up?_

Blaine sat up straight and typed back.

Blaine: Indeed, dads are at Scandals. Was going to be a quiet night before the tornado from the Wizard of Oz arrived…

Kurt: _Ah yes, take it Tina didn't take toooo kindly to Rachel's critiquing?_

Blaine: _You have assumed right. _

Blaine: _Wait how did you know?_

Kurt: _Pfft. How is it you haven't realised by now that I know all and see all._

Kurt: _Also Mercedes text me. _

Blaine: _Did she mention the part where Tina threw Pie at Rachel?_

Kurt: _NO! Oh. My. God. That is PRICELESS! Please tell me you managed to get a photo? Brittany would love to include that in the Muckraker!_

Blaine: _Would you get in the ring with a Bull during a fight to take its picture?_

Kurt: _Fair Point._

Kurt: _So Sebastian, you know the guy we met tonight?_

Blaine paused his mouth going dry before replying.

Blaine: _Yes Kurt, the Alzheimer's hasn't set in just yet._

Kurt: _Ha Ha… Well he's just added me to Facebook as well. First his number now this…_

Blaine mirrored those thoughts exactly, but while Kurt was excited and probably had butterflies in his tummy, Blaine was distressed and sick to his stomach.

Blaine: _The guy is persistent._

Kurt: _Right huh? He was super cocky at the coffee shop. I don't normally go for cocky (yes insert a million obvious gay jokes) but… he's kind of cool. _

Kurt: _Actually kind of slushie in the face cold!_

_Not that Kurt would know_ Blaine thought, Blaine however was very familiar with that particular feeling.

Blaine: _Oh how so?_

And Kurt went on to list all the things Blaine had already found out about him. He zoned out looking at the pictures on the wall behind his laptop. Family Christmas photos in matching sweaters. Him and a small mike dressed as magicians holding calculators in the air like wands. New Directions proudly holding last years Regionals trophy.

But dead centre where he his eyes were now rested was a picture in a frame that did not resemble the rest of the uniform brown frames. This one was hand painted and resembled the swirling skies of Van Gogh's _Starry Night _which Kurt had made Blaine four years ago for his birthday. The picture inside was a photo taken by Hirum of Kurt and Blaine sat in seven-year-old Kurt's makeshift book skyscraper Manhattan. Kurt had no money that year having just spent his last penny on tickets to see Brittany Spears, he'd apologised for the hand made and promised Blaine something else in a couple of months. But Blaine had been staggered and told him not to worry because it was the best gift he'd ever received.

Kurt: _Blaine you there? Did the she beast come back to tear your virgin flesh?_

Blaine physically shook his head to will himself back into the conversation.

Blaine: _Yeah sorry just distracted by an email from amazon, can you believe they suggested I might like books on Bowtie fashion and Math?_

Kurt: _*Gasp* Idiots! What do they _know_? They also suggested I might be interested in the new Lady Gaga album – don't they realise I only listen to Danish folk metal?_

Blaine: _lol! _

Kurt: _So to recap I said: do you think he'd really go for me?_

Blaine really wanted out of this conversation. Why did Kurt have to torture him? Santana or Mercedes would be thrilled to talk about boys with him. But it was Friday night so Mercedes would be out with Shane and Santana would be on her 3rd or 4th date by now. They'd both tried a couple of unsuccessful attempts at setting Kurt up before with the handful of gay teenagers in a 20-mile radius but none had really taken Kurt's fancy. Kurt just seemed content to stand atop the cheerleader pyramid and work tirelessly at his fabric creations to make his New York fashion design dreams come true.

Being Kurt's only Gay friend meant he'd always talk to Blaine and want his opinions about these encounters, even if Blaine had even less experience. Blaine's only opinion was that none of these guys were good enough for Kurt and the only person he should be interested in was woefully out of his league. While Blaine could tell immediately that none of the other guys had really interested Kurt this time was different. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

Blaine: _He'd be a certified crazy to not._

Kurt: _Thanks Blaine, I better go start my nighttime beauty moisturising routine before my skin turns to this leather I've been chewing! Brittany will meet you when you finish work tomorrow, thanks again for doing this. You're the best friend anyone could ask for X_

With that Kurt's status went to offline and Blaine sat staring at the computer. Before shutting it down to go to sleep he dragged his finger over the little X Kurt had typed and sighed deeply.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three:

Blaine had had a very long shift. He'd arrived at 9am to find his boss Quinn was severally perturbed… as usual. Puck had called her an hour _after_ he was due to start work to inform her he wouldn't be going in due to quote: "Being mauled by a cougar." Consequently she had had to go in earlier than she was due to and the shop had opened late, causing her regulars to bitch like babies until she dolled out free stale biscotti's.

Quinn had been something of a hot mess in school having just graduated last year. It was lucky when her mother having just finalised her divorce had brought the coffee shop, and decided to appoint her daughter as manager because when her plans to attend Yale for Drama had fallen through, shed gone on something of a meltdown. It had been all over the Muckraker and even the Lima Times, after all it's not everyday a girl shaves off all her hair and crashes her car right into a lake. Consequently she was not a particularly desirable candidate at any of the other scant jobs in town.

Blaine's only bright spot in the day was when one of his favourite customers Jeremiah had come in for his usual Saturday morning chai latte. He was a junior manager at the Gap in the mall and always bantered with Blaine when he came in. Blaine envied his ability to style his curly locks – a skill he'd never managed to acquire. Jeremiah had even offered Blaine his discount whenever he wanted it.

It was nice to see at least one kind face because the rest of Lima's residents were bitterer than the grinds at the bottom of the coffee tray. One person had even spat their coffee over Blaine ranting that it wasn't de-caff as they'd ordered, calling Blaine a stupid little boy before storming out.

So when five o clock rolled around he was well and truly ready to quit for the day. But as he remembered when Blonde and ditsy Brittany bobbed through the door, the day was far from over. Brittany cut to the head of the queue to the groans and comments of The Lima Bean's waiting patrons. "Blondie you can't cut it!_" _someone stated loudly and Brittany looked at them smiling with that glossed over expression she always seemed to have. "Don't worry I'm a dancer I do it all the time. Blaine it's 5 o clock. Kurt told me to meet you at 5 o clock and it's five o clock. Are we going to study now?"

Blaine was frothing some milk and called over the sound of the steamer, "I've just got to serve a few more people Brittany, I can go when Quinn get's b-" Blaine was cut off by a temperamental middle-aged woman in a fuchsia jumpsuit shouting "_Where's_ the danish I ordered? You need to stop talking to your girlfriend and do you job!"

"I'm not his girlfriend." Brittany said turning to the woman, "Blaine has a unicorn horn in his pants, those only work for boys," Blaine was utterly mortified and was about to actually yell at Brittany to go sit down until he was done, when he inadvertently pulled the jug away from the steamer without turning it off. The motion caused a geyser of boiling hot frothy milk to coat his hand, his clothes and the counter.

Brittany kept smiling at the woman, "Yeah that's what it does when he has a _boyfriend_. It wouldn't do that for me. Believe me I tried."

After Quinn had finally remerged, Blaine had moped the counters and served the pissed off woman in the jumpsuit her _free _danish and latte_ - _well free to her anyway, Quinn had informed Blaine that this would be coming out of his wages. Blaine was eventually free to go with Brittany and they hopped in his car after putting her bike across the backseat.

In the car Brittany looked over at Blaine and screwed up her nose. "You smell like my uncle. He's an adult baby. Sometimes he lets me read him a story before I put him to bed," Blaine really couldn't decide how to take Brittany. She was always coming out with this kind of stuff in Glee club but there, there were plenty of other people to look after her so he'd rarely actually had to talk to her. The first conversation they'd ever really had, had been at the first party Glee party Kurt had dragged him to; when Blaine had been avoiding her very blatant advances. How did Kurt deal with her in both Glee club _and _Cheerio's?

"Brittany that's…" Blaine began but thought better of it and just decided to get to the matter at hand. "Ok so do you have your books?" She had been busy playing with the electric window opener and didn't pause when she said, "Yeah of course." Blaine was pleased as it meant they'd be able to go to his place to study, and he'd be able to get out of these clothes. He'd been able to dry himself off a bit with some tea towels but as Brittany had just pointed out, he _reeked _of stale milk.

"No that's not gonna work, they're at my house." Blaine mentally swore. "You _just said _you had them," He was already loosing his patience and they hadn't even _opened_ a book yet. "Yeah, I have them, I just brought them yesterday from the school, Kurt told me I'd need to buy them. I didn't know," _this might explain why she was failing _Blaine thought _well __**part**__ of why she was failing._ "So I guess we'll be studying at your place then," Blaine said a little disappointed, he'd really wanted to change. "It's ok, I know what you're thinking," _doubt it _Blaine thought, "We'll have something you can wear." Maybe there was hope for Brittany yet. "Ok Brittany where's your house?" Blaine asked: "My street" Brittany replied.

If Blaine were doing this for anyone but Kurt he'd have ditched her right then and there on the freeway.

This was Blaine's first time in a girl's bedroom. Well one that he wasn't related to.

They'd been working since 6:30pm, and it was now almost approaching 11. They'd have started sooner but it had taken Blaine ages to agree to change into the clothes Brittany had provided, the only things that would fit him were her super baggy on her hot pink sweat pants (super tight on Blaine) and a baggy (yes baggy on Blaine) t-shirt Brittany had brought for her cat Lord Tubbington. She'd had it made for him at a t-shirt store but had failed to say that it was a Large for a _cat. _He'd tried to see if her father had anything he could borrow but she told him his clothes were all in his room and she wasn't allowed in there anymore.

They had made slow progress, focussing mainly on algebra, which he'd had to start from scratch. Every time _without fail_ Blaine had asked what A and X equalled Brittany would say 2 and 9. After about 30 minutes of this he'd realised the pattern and asked her flat out if she was aware of this and she'd replied, "Yes, A is always 2 as is B and C." When Blaine had told her no, she'd gotten up to retrieve the cordless phone in her room and held it out to Blaine. "_See _A is 2!"

With a lot of hard but gentle tuition and a lot of peanut butter M and M's (Kurt's suggestion) she'd managed to pull herself up to what Blaine thought might resemble a D- . They might have done even better but Kurt had failed to mention about the blue M and M's. When Blaine had given her a blue M for correctly identifying that A was 14 (not 2 at last!) he'd slid over a blue M and she'd freaked out and said they'd promised never to give her the blue pills again. Brittany had hidden under the bed for 15 minutes.

Blaine looked at his pocket watch, it was 10:54pm. "Brittany we should be wrapping up soon, you've done really, really well today. A few more sessions and I'm sure you'll pull the grade up," he said smiling at her, pushing his ever-falling glasses back us his nose. "Thanks Blaine. I know everyone thinks I'm stupid. I know you do too. But I really appreciate you not saying it," Blaine's heart instantly went out to her, she was a really nice girl, he didn't truly think she was stupid, just… Brittany.

"I don't think you're stupid Brittany, don't let anyone tell you that you are. People are only stupid when they don't have a heart. Yours is one of the biggest I know." She grinned at him and stood up, "Oh! I have something for you. Hold on," she said walking out of the room leaving Blaine to start packing up his things.

She was taking a while so Blaine went to look at the wall of photos and posters that were arranged haphazardly. There was a large poster of Britney Spears that made him chuckle. _Brittany S. Pierce_ he thought, they'd had an entire week of Britney songs in Glee club when Kurt had shameless campaigned and harassed Mr Schue to let them (Blaine was still marked as part of the group protest on Facebook). Brittany had done a 180 and suddenly gone from her biggest enemy to her 2nd biggest fan, (Kurt refused to loose his 1st place title) after some hallucinogenic Britney Spears dental work.

Blaine thought back to his own hazy experience in the dentist's chair when Hirum had taken him and Rachel in. Blaine had had the most vivid Britney spears fantasy that involved Kurt dancing around in a skintight red cat suit. Blaine who had been dressed as astronaut had given Kurt a necklace, only to be ditched on Mars. The dentist had heard a lot of patients say a lot of weird things but never: "Evvvvfffen ffffantasssy Brrrritneeey Kuuurt-t-t w-won looooovvvvvveee meeeeee… Ffffffuuuuuuufff myy liiiffffffffe."

He looked over the many photos; Brittany had a lot of friends. She was smiling in group shots at breadstix, pulling faces in photo booths with boys and girls, jumping at concerts dressed as a pirate, draped across Artie's lap at last years prom and there was a rather interesting one of her and Santana where Britney was smiling right at the camera but Santana was smiling right at her, with an expression Blaine knew all too well. _I wonder…_

But his eyes came to rest on a couple of pictures from what he gathered was a Cheerio's sleepover in Brittany's room. They were all in sleepwear doing nails, eating what appeared to be cheese-less, sauce-less pizza, _delicious _he thought derisively. But one stuck out, Mercedes was cowering on the floor in mock horror as a broadly smiling Kurt towered over her with a fluffy pillow. His always perfectly quaffed hair was tousled, his cheeks were flushed and the tight McKinley T-shirt had risen up to expose one of Kurt's hipbones. Kurt looked alive, beautiful, _and downright sexy. _Blaine felt flushed.

Brittany flung the door open catching Blaine staring at the picture. "What are you doing?" She was holding an orange plastic box looking at him not angrily but quizzically, well that might just be her expression, she always looked like she was somewhat questioning everything.

"Sorry Britt, I was just looking at yo-your photos… you guys look like you had fun at the um sleepover," Blaine fought for the words. "Yeah we always have fun everywhere," she said matter of factly and came to stand next to him, looking at the pictures too. "Oh this was the one you were nearly at," Blaine gaped at her, "Pardon?"

"We were doing the Ouiji board thing and it was Kurt's turn and he started spelling B-L-A-I but then Santana kinda jerked and the last letter was M. She said the board was trying to blame him for something, maybe for messing up the pyramid at practise, and we started the pillow fight. I totally thought it was gonna spell _Blaine _but…Oooo here! Take the cookie!" she handed the box to Blaine who's jaw had dropped.

He shook himself out of reverie and took the box. "Weren't they supposed to be _cookies _in the plural?" Blaine asked, genuinely curious, he couldn't imagine Kurt just baking a single cookie. "Yeah sorry but Sue said our food was only allowed to be the mung soup and I was really hungry, so I figured if it was your food it wouldn't count."

Blaine might have been angry, after all it had been a long time since Kurt had made him some of the delicious cookies he and his mum used to bake, but he knew how cruel Sue could be and he wasn't about to make little Oliver Brittany feel bad. "It's ok, don't worry Britt, I'll see you Monday."

"Cool keep the clothes by the way," she smiled and looked down her face confused then suddenly smiling widely with teeth. "Hey! Unicorn is looking up a little! Maybe I can be your girlfriend after all, wanna make out?" Blaine flushed _purple._

Avoiding Brittany's advances for the second time in his life Blaine managed to get home at about 11:15pm. Closing the door to his beaten up car he strode up to the house noting the missing parental car _must be at Scandals again_ Blaine thought. He'd kept missing them the last couple of days but he'd see them tomorrow for the weekly Anderberry Sunday Lunch. This had been a tradition since they'd amalgamated the family surnames after Blaine had been adopted into the Family.

Rachel had been adopted first but once they had Blaine, Hirum Berry and Leroy Anderson felt their family was complete and legally changed everyone's surnames. They'd had a big family lunch the following Sunday and the tradition had stuck ever since. They'd even made Rachel late to the Barbara Streisand tribute at the McKinley civic centre one week to keep the tradition; she'd sulked _loudly _for a week following it.

Blaine was too tired to even search for food; he kicked his shoes off in the hallway and trudged up the stairs ready to crash out, well he'd read for a bit first of course naturally. He could see a faint light was coming from his bedroom, like a small lampshade or something was on. _Rachel _he thought, this is probably to do with the revenge that was due to come his way. "I don't know what you have planned Rachel but I've had a lon.." Blaine stopped in surprise, it wasn't Rachel looming with a cream pie or whatever it was she had planned, as Blaine had expected. Kurt was lying flat on his stomach, across the bed, Blaine's late night reading flashlight hovering over his copy of _The Amber Spyglass._

"Kurt – what?" Blaine was surprised to see Kurt, well not surprised he'd gotten in, he'd been sneaking into his room since they were seven. Those years of gymnastics lessons had given him the grace of a cat and Spiderman combined. Kurt looked up and closed the book, "What indeed, I have no idea what's going on; who the hell is Lyra? And why has this crazy bitch roofied her?" Blaine laughed and took the book from Kurt, "This is the 3rd book in the trilogy, you can borrow the 1st one if you promise not to drop it in the bath like you did to _Catching Fire_."

Blaine took the book from Kurt and put it on the nightstand flicking on the lamp to give a bit more light to the than the flashlight had managed. "Oh come on! You should have warned me not to read it in the bath, that _ending! _I don't usually like books but The Hunger Games mirrors my life so." Kurt said this with mock drama, rolling on his back, his arm strewn across his forehead, eyes shut tightly.

"I fail to see how your life mirrors that of a starving society, on the verge of rebellion, from the tyrannical rule of a dictator, who makes young adults and children fight to the death for the sake of entertainment." Blaine said in a mouthful arms crossed. "Blaine, I'm a _Cheerio._ I want you to think about what you just said," Kurt said an eyebrow raised. "Oh yeah… fair point." Blaine let his arms fall to his sides and Kurt started to crack up. Blaine wondered why until he remembered the T-shirt.

Printed on the front of the white T-shirt in black lettering was written _BIG AND PROUD. _She'd had it made for Lord Tubbington when they'd all performed to _Born This Way, _Blaine's had said _Nerd Boy._ Looking him up and down Kurt said, "And in those skinny sweats I can _totally _see why!" He was gone, rolling on the bed with laughter, Blaine flushing the colour of his pants.

"I _assume _you didn't just stop by to steal my books and mock me Kurt," he said trying to regain some composure in the bedroom. Kurt finally managed to compose himself and sat up somewhat sheepishly hugging his knees to his chest. The gesture was endearing and Blaine forgot to be angry with Kurt. Kurt looked to the box with the cookies. "You maybe assumed right… but did you like them? How many have you have?"

Blaine opened the box and proceeded to put the cookie to his mouth and took a bite. "Mmmmmmm, wellf this onef will bef my first" he said his mouth full. "There was a whole box! What happened to them?" Kurt exclaimed then realised, "Oh jeeze, Brittany… I'll give you the cookies directly next time. That little cheater, wait till I.." Blaine cut into Kurt's rant, "Don't be too hard on her," he swallowed the bite and carried on, "Sue work's you guys way too hard and you're gonna make yourselves sick," Blaine said worriedly continuing, "and mmmmmm yes they're more delicious than I could possibly remember!"

"Thank you, and I know, it's just if you're gonna cheat, at least cheat with celery or something, besides I'd already given the ok for her to have M and M's that's enough sugar and E numbers right there. How was the tutoring anyway?" Kurt enquired.

"We _slowly _made a lot of progress. Maybe in a couple of weeks she might have a passing chance," Blaine said, Kurt looked relieved. Blaine carried on, "She _did _try to make out with me again though," he said giving his approximation of a sassy Kurt glare, hands on hips. He laughed looking guiltily up from the back of his knees with the puppy dog eyes and Blaine took a mental picture.

"I'm sorry, I promise next time it'll be my Christmas sugar cookies _with _frosting art," Blaine dramatically sighed dropping his arms and expression, sitting in the chair at last, his tired legs giving in, "Very well, you shall live another day to battle in the arena… So getting back to the topic at hand, what brings you to my quarters at this late hour?"

Kurt played with the hem of his clothes; work out wear Blaine noted, he must have been working out at the gym or something today, if it was Cheerio's he'd be in the uniform. "I was thinking, we could move our post Glee study session to tomorrow night, so we could take a little road trip on Tuesday," Kurt said surprisingly guiltily. Blaine wondered where he could possibly want to go, Kurt had something of a vivid imagination and once in a while would come up with the strangest little activities for the two of them. They'd once even driven to what Kurt had told him was a haunted house. It turned out to be Sandy Dyerson's secret tryst location.

"Sure Kurt, what did you have in mind?" Blaine swivelled the chair around and started absentmindedly rearranging the cogs and watch faces on his desk into particular little piles. "Sebastian invited me to see him play Lacrosse on Tuesday at Dalton in Westerville. We've been texting each other all day. I'd ask Mercedes or Santana to drive me but they're both going to the movies for a double date. I'd take the bus but I wouldn't get there in time, and besides I'm kind of nervous. I don't wanna go by myself…" Kurt broke off at the end quietly, almost embarrassed for his somewhat childish need to want somebody.

Blaine's eyes were scratchy; his throat felt thick as if the cookie had sealed the airway like glue. "Oh yeah um…" Blaine began, he was glad he wasn't looking at Kurt now, fearful his body would betray him and tears would leak from the corners of his eyes. He stacked a pile of identical cogs in perfect synchronicity and pulled himself together.

"Sure Kurt, it's ok. You know I'd never leave you."

Thanks for reading my little Klainer's. Drop me a line and let me know what you think – reviews: big, small, good, bad, typo catching, purple, orange, dinosaur, are all appreciated :-D x


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Blaine rounded the corner of the hallway trudging in the direction of the choir room. His chemistry and world history books were clasped loosely to his chest, the usual buoyancy was lost to the foreboding prospect of his and Kurt's imminent road trip.

It wasn't the journey Blaine was dreading, he loved driving with Kurt. They'd make mix CD's or listen to the radio and sing duets on their trips. _Flirty duets_ Blaine thought.

Once on a road trip back from Christmas shopping in Columbus, with a higher ratio of new clothes for Kurt to gifts for his family and friends, the radio had started playing _Baby It's Cold Outside. _Kurt had squealed, "I _love_ this song! You've _got_ to sing with me Blaine!" He rushed, managing to catch the second line:

"I really can't stay,"

Blaine had laughed missing his cue, Kurt shoving him playfully, "Come _on _Blaine, don't be a spoil sport!" Blaine was still laughing as Kurt continued.

"_I've got to go away."_

Even from the corner of Blaine's eye he could see Kurt throwing a disparaging look and _pouting... Gosh his lips look delicious_ he'd thought. Blaine finally relented cutting in:

"_But baby it's cold outside." _

The pout dissolved like snow in the palm of his hand and Kurt positively beamed,

"This evening has been,"

"_Been Hoping that you'd drop by."_

"_So Very Nice."_

"_I'll hold your hands, they'd just like ice." _

And even though Blaine had sung the line Kurt grabbed his hand - taking any opportunity to act out a song. Blaine taken by surprise had swerved the car enough to knock Kurt into the door. "Geeze Blaine warn a guy next time before you do that!"

"Sorry!" Blaine had said, "Um, Your hand actually was cold… funny that… you know cause of the song…" really it was the force of that same electricity that ran through him whenever Kurt touched him.

_This was not going to be fun though_ Blaine thought as he came back to the present. _I'm driving Kurt to a date. A date with a hot, popular, rich, athletic, well travelled, perfect on paper… _but Blaine was too much of a gentleman to even think what he wanted to call Sebastian.

How on earth had he managed to get into this predicament?

Blaine was just approaching the choir room door when he became acutely aware of the raised voices of his sister and her on again off again boyfriend Finn Hudson. Blaine had heard them fight about a dozen times in the last two years: in their house, in Kurt and Finn's home, in the hallways, in the auditorium.

One time he'd been shopping for suspenders in The Gap and they'd been arguing and throwing socks at each other. A frazzled Jeremiah had taken a multi pack of argyle socks to the head before he called security and had them escorted out. Blaine had avoided the shame of association by hiding behind a mannequin.

So walking into a fight was not an unusual occurrence for Blaine. Finn was yelling now and he caught him mid rant, "…want to keep having the same fight over and over again Rachel! I've told you three times already this week we are OVER! You can't just make out with Puck and think it's OK."

_Uh Oh… this isn't _good Blaine thought. What Finn was saying was in fact true. On a night shift one Friday Rachel had come to the mall to pick up some new sheet music and had popped in to visit Blaine at the Lima Bean. Puck had been there and suggested Rachel come see _something_ in the back office. When they hadn't emerged for ten minutes Blaine went to check if she'd left without saying anything and had seen them making out against the milk fridge.

They hadn't seen him and Blaine had immediately text Kurt the gory details. Some part of him also wondered how he'd failed to already hear this from Kurt, who had his pulse on everything going on at McKinley. Although the answer seemed somewhat obvious, he had other things or _people _on his mind. He wondered how Finn had found out.

"But Finn, it isn't true I didn't do it!" Rachel was pleading like a child incoherently. She looked like a child too he noted, from this angel he could see she was wearing a peach baby doll dress patterned with cream and mint coloured babushka dolls, paired with lilac tights and gold pumps.

Hiram was the Anderberry stylist and always took Blaine and Rachel shopping together, dressing them like children straight out of 50's musical. They'd even been matched in their prom attire last year – both startlingly powder blue. While Rachel in her gown looked like a Jewish Cinderella, Blaine looked like Tony Orlando (as Burt had pointed out when Kurt had shown him pictures.)

"Urgh! Rachel _stop lying! _IknowBlaine saw you! Kurt told me!"

_Oh god is this why she's been so pissed with me? Why did Kurt blab? This is all I need..._ _Maybe I can get away before anyone notices me _Blaine thought and was just turning on his heels when Brittany called out over the hubbub, "Blaine! Blaine! Come here! Sit next to me!" Brittany stood up waving her arms.

Rachel stood stock-still. She turned on her heels like a creepy doll in an 80's horror movie and Blaine froze in the doorway clutching the text books in his arms like a shield. For seven seconds there was absolute silence.

Brittany looked dazed glancing around as if she couldn't fathom what was going on. Santana was smirking and was rubbing her hands together, Sugar on her other side looked to her and mirrored the move. Artie held his hands in a rectangle in front of his face as if picturing this scene in a movie. Mike had his arm wrapped tightly around Tina's shoulders as she covered her face with her hand and Sam eyes darted from Blaine to Rachel as he chewed his gum slowly – the only other sound Blaine was aware of apart from his own heartbeat.

Sam snapped a bubble with his gum and all hell broke loose.

Rachel stormed at Blaine as he tried to retreat but for a girl with freakishly short legs she could _move. _She wrenched the books out of Blaine's hands and began beating him across the chest and then his head.

"Stupid!" _smack_ "Evil!" _smack_ "Judas!" Blaine held his hands up in defence but she was possessed. The final hit knocked his glasses off his face, landing with a clatter to the floor.

This could have gone on a while but at that moment Kurt came skipping along with demented glee like a little wood nymph, Mercedes at his side laughing and both in full cheerio's attire. They stopped when they approached the scene and Kurt's laughter dissolved. He strode up and put himself right in the middle giving Rachel a small but powerful shove.

"Lay off, you little troll doll!" Kurt shouted." I know he's your brother and I don't care what crazy thing you think he's done this time but lay another finger on him again and I'll make you sorry for ever being surrogate-ly born!"

"You're as much to blame as he is, what business was it of yours to tell Finn about Puck, it was one kiss!" Rachel shrilled back at Kurt. "Urgh! Take some responsibility Rachel for once in your life geeze!" Finn said storming out the room, stepping on Blaine's glasses as he left.

As Rachel ran off after Finn Kurt bent to pick up the broken pieces of Blaine's glasses, and the books Rachel had dropped during her fit. He handed the pieces to Blaine and through his blurry vision he could just about make out that only the bridge had broken so he should be able to just tape them up for now. _That's something at least_ he thought glumly_._

"Sorry Blaine, I should have known Finn wouldn't keep us out of it. I just didn't want him wasting his time on Rachel anymore if she was going to cat it around like Ashley Cole," Kurt spoke with a tender look in his eyes.

Blaine had been angry at Kurt. In fact just minutes ago he'd been ready to skin him alive and wear him like an anorak the moment Finn had mentioned his name… But the boy had pretty much just ridden on a white horse to save him, even if it was just from his sister. It wasn't the first time anything like this had happened.

Kurt always stuck up for Blaine, whenever he was there of course, and anytime he'd seen a kid even get close to touching Blaine he'd storm up to them like a mother bear, roaring the claws out and flying. He'd even ended up in detention a few times, although not since he'd become a cheerio, cheerio's pretty much a free pass to get away with anything. Santana was living proof of this.

"It's alright Kurt, thanks for stepping in before she did to my face what Finn just did to my specs. You haven't got a wand on you have you? A little _oculus reparo _could really come in handy." They walked towards the seats on the platform.

"Oh my god Blaine, this is a _school_, you can't just ask Kurt to get out his wand. Take that horseplay to the janitors closet like the rest of us," Santana said cattily, earning herself a smack with Kurt's bag as he twisted to sit down. "You definitely love that _closet _don't you Santana," Kurt said with the grace of a diva. She flashed Kurt a look that could cut diamonds.

"Yo, Blaine, head's up!" Artie threw a roll of tape at Blaine, which Kurt leaned in to catch. Even if Blaine had had his glasses he doubted he'd have been able to catch it. Kurt started binding the pieces together with the tape and produced them to Blaine with finesse, "_Voilà_! My chauffeur will be able to see where he's going after all! And I shall go to the ball – they use balls in Lacrosse right?" Blaine shrugged suddenly deflated again, "You're the cheerleader, if anyone should know it should be you, right?"

Luckily Mr Schuster chose that moment to enter the choir room laden down with photocopied sheet music. "Sorry I'm late guys but you are in for a treat. I know how much you guys love _Journey" _The class groaned, "And so this week I propose we try Boston's hit _More Than A Feeling… Where's Finn and Rachel?"_

…

There were five minutes left of the game, Kurt and Blaine had arrived 30 minutes ago to catch the tail end. Blaine was a generally careful driver however he'd been excessively slow on the roads that evening, stopping at all orange lights and breaking anytime he even saw a cat even twitch at the side of the road.

Kurt was agitated with obvious impatience; Blaine knew it was taking everything he had not to either rip the wheel out of his hands on the head off his shoulders. But Blaine was doing him a favour, so Kurt was polite, he was quiet and he tapped his foot like a horny rabbit. Eventually they'd pulled up in the car park of the elaborate private school, it was weird combination of Hogwarts castle and the Titanic, set within Elizabethan style gardens and fields.

The game wasn't hard to miss, a sea of boys in the standard Dalton uniform were crowded around the edge of a field where twenty boys were running with netted sticks. Kurt dragged him by his coat sleeve and shoved blazer after blazer out of the way until they reached the front of the crowd.

Blaine had trouble making out which of the boys in the red shirts with the Blue D's was Sebastian until he saw one boy who'd been senselessly beating everyone in his path threw a direct look his and Kurt's way. "There is he!" Kurt was jumping up and down and clapping his hands, tiny cartoon hearts leaking from his eyes like bubbles. He was surprised he didn't just _swoon_ Blaine thought bitterly.

Sebastian managed to get one more goal in the last fifteen seconds and the field exploded, blue and red flags waving madly, it was like end of war had just been announced and when the whistle blew seconds later everyone was hugging and jumping. The Dalton Lacrosse team carried Sebastian around on their shoulders like he was on a Sedia gestatoria (one of those portable thrones the Pope and occasionally Lady Gaga were carried around on). The boy ripped his helmet off his sweating head and gave a wink at Kurt who responded with a giggle and a highkick.

When he'd finally had time to come over Sebastion jogged towards them and Kurt turned to Blaine, "Eeep! Crap! Crap! I'm a mess! Hows my hair?" He looked at Blaine with what he equated to stage fright. "You're perfect Kurt, don't worry."

"Hey Klurt… _Blake. _I'm so glad you boys could make it." _Oh __**so**__ original_ Blaine thought _it's like you're getting your mateiral from a 80's after school special._ "It's Blaine, actually," Kurt cut in pointedly, count on Kurt to look out for Blaine even now. Sebastian was smiling with far too many pearly white teeth Blaine noted, like he was baring his teeth in an animalistic show of dominance. He really didn't need to worry, Blaine was as much of a competition to Sebastian as a trout was in fighting a lion for food.

"Sorry _Blaine_ rough game, must have taken a few knocks to the head. Not to worry though. You guys going join up for a victory dinner in town?"he asked, barely masking the leering quality in his eyes. "I dunno," Kurt said with a flirtatiously tone, "I'm in training and I'd _hate _to ruin my figure."

"I think you look pretty fine Kurt, besides there's plenty more we could do but _eat._" Blaine couldn't believe Kurt was falling for this, this boy had all the originality and finesse of a weasel, but even Blaine couldn't deny the sultry eyelashes and sandy hair. He fiddled with the tassels on his scarf and listened as Kurt and Sebastian made plans to meet in half an hour in the car park while he quickly showered and changed.

Before he left he dragged a finger under Kurt's chin who shuddered infinitesimally, "I might need a little longer in the shower after all," and he swaggered off in the direction of the opulent dorms. When he was through the doors Kurt squealed and Blaine fought the urge to put two fingers down his throat.

When they finally left Dalton Academy, Kurt used the short time in the car ride to preen himself in the passenger side mirror like a little canary. Flicking his comb this way and that as he conformed every hair on his head to its correct position.

They followed the oppressive shiny black BMW as it weaved through the quaint cobble stoned roads that drew lines through boutique shops and terraced cafes. He eventually indicated and pulled up outside a restaurant with mahogany hatched windows lined by burgundy and gold striped curtains.

They huddled outside and Sebastian took Kurt's hand to lead him into the restaurant. Kurt making to look as if he were reaching for his pocket turned to give Blaine an ecstatic look. It didn't take telepathy for Blaine to read Kurt's thoughts, they were written over his face like it had been cast in skywriting. _He's holding my hand! BLAINE he's HOLDING my HAND!_

This was going to be a long and excruciating night.

…

Blaine was perched precariously on a maroon coloured bar stool, his short legs swinging free, as they were not quite long enough to reach the bottom bar. He was opening and closing the concertina bend of a straw, the repetitive action soothing his frazzled mind.

He'd now been at the restaurant for over an hour sat next to Kurt who'd looked at Sebastian with goo-goo eyes as he recapping the events of the game with animated gestures. Blaine had sat quietly and nodded; nibbling at a variety of foods he couldn't now remember tasting.

Throughout the course of the meal Sebastian had had one arm casually swung over the back of Kurt's chair. That hand had gradually worked it's way lower and lower until the entire well-manicured appendage had landed palm flat just below Kurt's shoulder. At one point he'd leaned into whisper something in Kurt's ear and Blaine had not missed the very light blush that had settled on his porcelain cheek.

Blaine was nearing his quota for self-torture that day, his head still aching from his sisters violent outburst earlier so politely excused himself from the table. He walked around until he found the discreetly appointed door the men's toilet, just across from the bar that hovered like an island in centre of the deeply carpeted floor.

He'd splashed water on his face, and braced a hand on each side of the bowl, willing himself to calm, but he couldn't. His heart was wrenching in his chest, head pounding and the feeling was suffocating and blinding.

What made it worse was he'd done this to himself. He was a coward. He'd been too scared to tell Kurt how he felt. Now not only had he missed whatever chance he ever had with Kurt, he was now stuck chaperoning his first date with the kind of boy who checked all the right boxes for a boy of his league.

Someone came in to use one of the urinals and Blaine made to look as if he was just adjusting the large bowtie threaded around his neck. They left quickly not even bothering to was his hands and Blaine realised he could not just hide out in the bathroom all night.

Taking one final breath he left the room and walked back to the throng of the restaurant that had started to fill up. A cursory glace told him that Sebastian and Kurt had also left their table so he decided to wait at the bar until they returned.

While folding and unfolding the straw he had unsuccessfully been able to stop these events repeating in his head, like a broken record. _Like a broken heart _he thought miserably. So buried was he in his moroseness that he didn't notice the figure standing in front of him till he spoke.

"I'd say something like _whatever it is it can't be that bad _but you're in high school, so conceivably, it really could be that bad," Blaine looked up and was startled to see Jeremiah. "Jeremiah, wow, how weird seeing you!" Blaine felt something adjacent to happiness at seeing him, he couldn't erase the day but things didn't feel quite as abhorrent as they had five minutes ago.

"So this must be the bar you work at," Blaine continued. Jeremiah had mentioned in passing one Saturday, after witnessing a customer berate Blaine on the quality of their latte, that he too was a member of the unappreciated drinks server club. "Not as weird as seeing you. With those cute little bowties you're always wearing, I'd never pegged you as a bad boy, sneaking into a bar, _underage,_" he said with emphasis.

"I'm just eating in the restaurant with some… _people_," Blaine said looking for the right word; a more apt description might have been pompous pretentious private school assholes. Jeremiah seemed to pick up on his tone, "So these 'people'_- _ not exactly friends?"

"Well one of them is my best friend, Kurt. But the rest, no. He's on a date with one of the guys and the rest of them are his friends." Blaine said. "And what, you're like some 16 year old chaperone?" Jeremiah retorted.

"I'm _17 _and I turn 18 soon... But yeah something like that, well more of a chauffer than chaperone. I'm just taking a breather from the _endlessly_ enthralling topic of Lacrosse stats and trust funds," Blaine cut back.

Jeremiah laughed pleasantly, "Well kudos for sticking it out this long, that earns you a root beer on the house," he said, filling a glass that suddenly appeared in front of Blaine. "So which one's your _friend_?" He wasn't sure but he felt a lot of implied meaning in the word friend in his question. "He's…. not sure really, great chaperone aren't I? Can tick that off my list of possible career paths." Jeremiah laughed and gave Blaine a somewhat knowing look.

"I hate to sound like some corny _It Gets Better _guy but you know," he said putting a tentative hand on Blaine's, "It _does _get better." He smiled at Blaine and he felt himself smiling back genuinely, the feel of his hand was nice, it was warm and comforting and sincere, and for a moment Blaine thought maybe he was right. Maybe things could get better.

This feeling lasted all of ten seconds before Jeremiah went to serve a man waving a note at the other end of the bar, unblocking Blaine's view to the window where he saw Kurt cradled in the arms of Sebastian, who was kissing him.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

In less than a week Sebastian had gotten further with Kurt than he'd ever dreamed possible for himself. After their kiss on Tuesday they had gone out a couple of times, the distance and Kurt's lack of transportation hindering them from spending every second of the day together. But they text each other constantly and Kurt would often be standing talking to Blaine, only to stop when the tell tale blipping of the phone indicated another message from his… _boyfriend. _

Kurt didn't need to call him that for Blaine to know that that was exactly what he was. So Blaine who was always available for him, who'd drop his homework to go for coffee, who would put down a novel (right when the murder was about to be revealed) to go see a rom-com Kurt was dying to see, began to distance himself from his best friend.

He avoided his late night phone calls and text him in the morning pretending to have fallen asleep. He hid himself online so he didn't have to chat. He'd make plans to third wheel with Mike and Tina before Kurt had the opportunity to see if he was free. He invented non-existent homework so he could stay at home and study. He sat between Finn and Sam in the choir room to avoid the heat and proximity of Kurt's body next to his. And he threw himself into his tutoring with Brittany with renewed vigour.

In fact, he monopolised Brittany's time to the point where she began to spend less and less time with Santana, who made her feelings on the matter as clear as razor sharp cut glass. _Good_ Blaine thought _if anyone should even be a close to miserable as I feel I'm glad it's her. _Blaine was a nice polite boy who rarely thought such harsh things about people but Santana had been pushing him recently and he had a sneaking suspicion why.

Only today while he'd hastened to grab his books lest Kurt catch him before he got to AP Calculus had she cornered him at his locker. "It's been noted that you're not hanging off Kurt's heels like a little puppy dog anymore. And while I do miss that oh so _delicious_ irony of your top and bottom pairing_. _ I am pleased that Kurt's finally managed to both land a rather _spectacular_ piece of man candy and ditch your Saved By The Bell Skreetchness in a single week. Both of which have simultaneously boosted his social cred even further than they already were." She'd spouted this maliciously before knocking the books from his hands and striding away.

While collecting his books from the ground, Blaine had missed his window of opportunity to avoid Kurt who he could see had just spied Blaine and paced quickly to his side, clad in the uniform colours of red white and black. "You are like a rainbow these days Blainers, rare but always colourful," he said indicating his attire that day. Blaine was wearing an emerald checked shirt, orange and red striped suspenders and a snow-white bowtie with a pattern of little purple bowties.

"I know, but you know, lots of classes, college applications… you must be busy too," he buried his face in his locker trying to mask the tell tale look of sorrow dimming his eyes and weakening the muscles in his mouth.

"Yeah Sue has us working pretty hard, she's even got me taking these extra special _secret _classes. I'm not supposed to tell _anyone_ or she'll quote: 'render my loins null and void' totally creepy… but I'll let you in on the secret," Kurt said and although Blaine could not see his face from his present location he was certain from the tone that he had the smile he reserved for moments like this when he was trying to tentatively coax the happiness out of Blaine. Blaine had enough secrets to deal with.

He rearranged the features on his face to resemble a smile, one that he couldn't quite persuade his eyes into achieving, so avoided Kurt's own at all costs as he spoke "Don't worry, I'd hate for you to get in trouble with Satan herself. Lord knows what dastardly deal you'd have to execute to get them back. I'll see it when you perform it at the tournament."

He was about to leave and throw Kurt an off hand goodbye, feigning lateness to a class he still had ample time to get to, when he felt Kurt grip one of his elbows. His books were held tightly to his chest like a shield the arms crossed over like a double barrier, the melodramatic voice in his head philosophising that they were protecting the pieces of his broken heart.

Blaine froze at the touch and Kurt seemed to note it and dropped his hand. But he could feel his penetrating stare when he asked: "Are you okay Blaine? Is something up with school? Has someone been giving you a hard time? Is it Santana? I know she can be pretty catty when people muscle in on Brittany. Is it, is it Se-" babbled Kurt, but before he could articulate the first syllable of his wretched name Blaine slapped a poker face on and looked Kurt right in the eyes.

"Like I said, school's been pretty busy. It's pretty stressful getting all these college essays in. They weren't kidding at how stressful it would be. I guess I'm just letting it get to me."

He could see Kurt working this over in his eyes, his big doe like sapphire eyes that sparkled even in this hideous florescent lighting. Blaine's words seemed to have placated him somewhat for now but he knew he hadn't convinced him entirely.

"I'm sorry, I know, I guess if I was applying to the big fancy schools like you I'd be more… edgy too. There's only one school I really want to go to anyway, if not I plan to just live off the streets of New York designing clothes for rats and street urchins," Kurt was pinning all his hopes on Parsons in New York's trendy Greenwich Village.

Blaine just noted the hint of insecurity in Kurt's voice and couldn't stop himself saying, "I believe in you Kurt, there's no doubt in my mind that you won't get in." Kurt smiled happy to see just the slightest return of his friend, his voice was almost hopeful when he asked, "Did you end up applying to NYU?"

Blaine had tossed and turned over this decision, NYU was the only school he'd even considered applying to for creative writing. He'd filled out the application but it had sat in a manila envelope on his desks for weeks. Only at the last minute had he posted it, saying to himself that they wouldn't accept him and then he could finally put the silly dream to rest. "I did but I'm leaning more to Stanford or Princeton. There didn't seem any harm mailing it in, even if it is silly," he noted, practically.

"It's not silly, you've dreamed about writing for years. I still have the stories you used to write me in middle school. Asides from your occasional recommendations they're the only things I like to read, well and vogue of course, but that's more religious than recreational." Blaine laughed in spite of himself and it pleased Kurt.

"That's only because I wrote you as the main character: running clothing stores, eating cupcakes and never gaining a pound, meeting Daniel Radcliff…" Kurt broke in "Just as life should be, I always liked to think of your works as non-fiction premonitions as apposed to _fantasy,"_ he laughed and adopted a more serious tone. "You know Blaine, dreams are _never_ silly…"

Kurt's phone suddenly began to ring and he jumped surprised. It was interesting to note because Blaine never saw Kurt surprised to receive a phone call, he held the phone and Blaine could see the smug flashing face of Sebastian Smyth smirking. "You should take that," Blaine said, "I've got to get to class. I'll see you later."

With that he turned and walked away, the clopping of his Oxford browns blending into the now thinning crowd. As he walked away he turned over the last thing Kurt had said to him over and over in his mind: _dreams are never silly…_

_Yes they were _Blaine thought over the rhythm of his pacing. _When you dream bigger than you can possibly reach you'll fall hard and you won't just land in the comfort of your bed. You'll fall until you land in a nightmare you'll never wake up from. _

As he rounded the corner he failed to notice Kurt who's eyes bore into his back as he disappeared from sight. Or the phone that was still ringing unanswered in his hand.

…

Blaine was sucking out the crystal sugars of his last pixie stick while Brittany was tapping her feather ended bejewelled pen against the note pad. Pixie sticks were something of a vice for Blaine who brought them by the box and he had them on hand for every study session. Kurt chastised him constantly and blamed his addiction for the golden filling at the back of his mouth.

Brittany finally dropped the pen in frustration and signed, "I'm not getting it, can't we take a break Mr Anderberry?" Brittany had taken to calling Blaine by this formal name when they studied, for after all he basically was her teacher, her real math teach had given up on her long ago when she'd drawn pictures of her cat where the answers to her test should go.

"You've got it Britt just focus, feel the magic of the pen, it wants to help you…" Blaine had taken the advice of Artie who's told him that Brittany whole-heartedly believed in magic and especially magic objects. He'd used this tactic last year to boost her confidence enough to dance fantastically alongside Mike and win them their Regionals trophy. She had unfortunately lost the comb after this performance and Artie (mentally) kicked himself, believing if she hadn't they might have been able to finally win nationals.

So Blaine had made up the story that he had found this pen years ago in the nest of a phoenix in the park. That he had used it in class and had scored flawless grades, until the magic had run out for him a year later. He told her that anyone who used the pen was guaranteed a significant mental boost for the length of the year.

So combined with the 'magic pen' and Blaine's rigorous and numerous tutorials Brittany's grade had risen to what he considered a shaky C. But the test was now fast approaching and Brittany needed just a little more of a push to fly from the nest. "Come on Britt…"

"…is it 7/32?" she finally said. "That's it!" Blaine exclaimed clapping her on the back as she smiled radiantly. "This calls for celebrations and a break I think, I'm going to go get Kurt's treats." As Blaine had been avoiding Kurt Brittany had brought over the latest bakery concoction, with the promise she would not eat them and Blaine would share them on their first break.

He got a couple of plates out of the cupboard, chipped pieces from ebay and antique shops with pictures from a series of musicals, the intact ones locked away in a china cabinet in the basement with a large padlock. Inside the box sat the most marvellous cupcakes he'd seen to date. Vanilla and cinnamon bases with golden cases, curling swirling butter icing tinged dark orange at their edges and pale apricot in the middle. Scattered on top of each were a sparkling dust of orange sherbet and little blue sugar stars, like a fairytale galaxy.

He placed one over the face of the Wicked Witch of the West for himself and two over the grinning one of Maria from The Sound of Music. After all, this was most likely the only thing she'd eaten besides mung bean soup all day.

Blaine brought them upstairs and pushed the door open with his elbow. "You're in for a treat Britt, Kurt made…" he broke off as he realised he was speaking to an empty chair and wondered where she'd gone. He flicked his eyes to the side and saw her curled up on his bed holding the hand painted picture frame that housed the picture of little Kurt and little Blaine.

"What's it like meeting your penguin?" Brittany asked casually, not taking her eyes off the picture. Blaine furrowed his brows still holding the little plates in front of him. "Pardon?"

"You know, it's _like_ your soul mate but for gay people. You should really read the pamphlets in Miss Pillsbury's office. You'd learn a lot," She said matter of factly; she was completely unaware of Blaine's continued slack jawed frozen stare. "I thought maybe once I'd found mine but… Ooooo! CUPACAKES!" She yelled, jumping from the bed, the picture forgotten and yanking the plate out of his hand.

Blaine sat down dazed in the chair, Brittany had devoured an entire cake, frosting on the tip of her nose before he was able to string together a coherent sentence. "Brittany K-Kurt's just, we're just friends Britt. He's not my… _soul mate."_

"Well no of course not, like I said he's your _Penguin._ Haven't you seen those gay penguins before in the news?" Blaine, was stunned, partly because Brittany admitted to watching the news. But obviously because she'd seen what he tried so hard to hide. "No Britt no, we're not penguin's, we're not anything, we're just, we're just friends," he said barely containing the sad note to his words.

"Blaine I'm going to be honest with you. I know Kurt has nicer feathers than you. He's waddles taller than you and he's got a better beak. But you and he were _born_ to be together. If you let Sebastian take that away from you, you'll both die miserable, alone and human. Have _courage_ and make your move. Remember: _Actions speak louder than birds."_

Blaine wanted to correct her phrase, but resisted. Instead he opened his mouth and said, "Brittany right now _fractions_ speak louder than anything. Let's just get back to work."

Little did Blaine know that he would take Brittany's advice in just a few short days and have his first ever kiss with Kurt.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six:

"Dude, is he gone?" Puck asked cowering behind the side of the office doorframe. Blaine was peeking around the front door to make sure the coast was clear. When he was sure he locked the door and turned the sign around leaning his back against the door and letting a breath escape that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

It had been a relatively quiet Sunday night shift, Blaine having come in after finishing a particularly tense Anderberry Sunday lunch. He'd been glad of the peace and quiet after Rachel had broken her vow of silence and launched into yet another fight with Blaine at the dinner table. Unfortunately the tranquillity had not lasted when only five minutes ago a red faced man about three times the size of him had stormed into the coffee shop.

Before the man had a chance to spot Puck he had hurriedly told Blaine: "You don't know me, I don't work here!" before bolting into the office and locking himself in. Before the arrival of this gentleman they'd been about ready to lock up, when he'd stormed in throwing chairs out of the way and held Blaine up by his collar and bowtie _demanding_ him to tell him where Puck was.

As it turned out only a couple of days ago Puck had been caught in this man's house, with his wife. This would be bad enough for anyone but coupled with the fact that the week previous he'd been caught with the mans daughter, you could understand why the guy was pissed. In fact to say that the guy was pissed would be like saying that Miss Pillsbury sort of liked things clean or that Blaine occasionally wore bowties.

Luckily Quinn had returned briefly to pick up the books she'd forgotten and having seen the man had dosed him with the foam fire extinguisher before screaming at him to leave before she called the cops. He'd left spluttering as he'd chocked on the nasty foam. Quinn hadn't stayed long after and Puck managed to avoid her inevitable lecture, that he'd no doubt catch the next time he saw her.

Puck slunk out of the office suddenly adopting his bravado persona and saying, "Yeah I could have taken him but he's totally got a heart condition. I like his cougar town wife too much to leave her a widow." Blaine was still trying to collect his breath as he rolled his eyes.

"I don't know how you keep getting yourself into these messes, it's not like you have that much going for you," Blaine said snidely, any sense of civility had been abandoned after being near enough assaulted by Puck's foe.

"_Ooooo_ someone woke up on the wrong side of the _queen _sized bed this morning. No wonder, it's always empty isn't it? I've never even seen you hold a guys hand before, let alone let them get close enough to breach your fortress of solitude," he said slapping Blaine's ass. Blaine shook lividly and stormed mutinously out of the seating area and behind the bar, reaching for the mop to start cleaning up the mess the fire extinguisher had left, wiping the floor with frenzied little circles.

"Struck a nerve did I _Lame Anderberry_…? Oh wait, you're still hoping that Hummel kid's gonna come in all 'knight in shining armour' and rescue you from this dungeon of coffee scented doom, so you can go 'joust' in some dewy meadow." Blaine stabbed the bucket with the mop sloshing water over the side before replying in a clipped voice. "I'm not interested in _Kurt_ Puck, not all of us are perverted sex fiends like you."

"Why you gotta hate? Look, I don't normally like to share my trademark secrets with just anyone but I'd be willing to impart a little of my extensive wisdom on you. A.) 'cause I like you and B.) cause' Plus frankly you'd be a lot easier to work with if you weren't such a tight ass, which is kind of ironic seeing as -"

"Don't you dare even finish that sentence Puck," Blaine broke in slapping the mop down with renewed vigour. He'd had enough of Puck for one night and was on the brink of tipping the entire bucket over his head. "Alright but you're gonna loose him to that private school dreamboat if you don't take some decisive _action_. I've got like a 5th sense, I know exactly when two people are gonna do the nasty, and Cinderella Hummel's clocks gonna run out midnight this weekend at that party he's throwing_."_

Pucks words stopped Blaine cold. It wasn't even the implication of Kurt taking it to the next level with Sebastian, although that alone filled Blaine with a cold dread like he'd been pumped right through his veins with a large purple grape slushie. It was the word _action._ Just yesterday Brittany had told Blaine that _actions speak louder than birds _and it just felt like too much of a coincidence to hear it two days in a row.

Truth be told, since his study session with Brittany last night he'd been thinking non-stop what she could possibly mean. What kind of _action_ could he possibly take to win Kurt's affections? Especially when he was already so painfully smitten with Sebastian? He knew he'd end up regretting this but…"So… what are these so called _trademark secrets_ then_?"_

Puck looked up from collecting mugs and gave him a shrewd look before beginning. "Well there are two tricks that have never failed me so far but the first won't help you much," he said with a sneer. "Why? Because I'm gay?" Blaine asked, a note of accusation in his voice.

"Hey I'm no lady boy basher, loves an all powerful force. I don't care where anybody sticks it, as long as they stick it somewhere. The _first_ one is letting them see you topless, I haven't failed to bang a single housewife since I started my pool cleaning business, it's half the reason I do it! And even if I don't drive your side of the road, even I can tell you've got nothing going on chest wise. Besides if Hummel's already seen you in the shower after gym then even you know it's not gonna work for you," He said this with just a little too much delight, but Blaine had to admit he had a point.

Deflated he asked him with a sense of trepidation, "Ok so what's the _second _trick?"

"The stone cold serenade. You've seen it in action in Glee. And hell if you don't believe me then just go ahead and ask you sister," he finished winking.

Blaine was right, he did regret asking.

…..

Time was ticking by in the choir room, that Tuesday afternoon. They'd come to the end of the hour and everyone was itching to go, Kurt especially who was due to attend one of his super secret classes, scheduled by coach Sue Sylvester. Blaine still declined to know what the classes were for, feigning fear that Sue would find out and have him strung up by his boxers from the flag pole. She'd done as much to Jacob Ben Israel last year when he'd let it leak on his blog that the cheerio's would be pole dancing in their nationals performance, though he hadn't been able to prove what she'd done despite the number of witnesses. Sue really knew how to own the power of _fear._

After Blaine had finished his shift he'd tossed and turned over Puck's idea, and he was right. He'd seen first hand how serenading a person in Glee club could take you from zero to hero; Puck had managed to woo both Mercedes and (as much as it disgusted him to remember) his own sister. Although it had backfired on Lauren; but that's just because he'd chosen the wrong song. Blaine however had known the perfect song for a long time. But did he really have the guts to get up in front of everyone to lay his heart on the line? Blaine was about to find out…

"Right guys I want you all to work on your audition's for this years solo and I'll see you next-" Mr Schu was cut off by Blaine who suddenly stood, skidding his chair with an unpleasant screeching noise which drew all eyes to him. He tinged to the colour of the pink bow tie, knotted carefully at his neck.

"Uh Mr Schu – I kind of had something I wanted to share now before we all left…" he said trailing off at the end. "Wow Blaine that's a first – uh sure, let's all give Blaine the floor," Mr Schu said with an inquisitive but amused expression.

Kurt broke away from the screen of his phone, his eyebrows perched higher than Brett the stoner from his Spanish class. He watched as Blaine marched uncomfortably to the front of the room, avoiding Kurt's ardent stare. In fact everyone was staring because apart from the required audition to get into Glee Club, this was Blaine's first solo.

Artie and Sam flanked either side of Blaine in plastic chairs holding banjos. They began plucking in time with each other to the opening chords of Taylor Swift's _You Belong With Me_. Blaine had his face trained to the ground, begging it silently to crack open and suck him in so he wouldn't have to do this. It remained stoically still.

But while the earth would not comply with this simple request, his body felt on the brink of cracking open itself; shaking like he was on vibrate mode. In anticipation of his cue he looked up and through the haze of his eyelashes locking eyes with _Kurt _he stared at him with confusion.

Blaine opened his mouth and began to sing, "Yo-…"

Out of the blue the choir door slammed open, startling the entire class and abruptly stopping the number before Blaine could even sing one single lyric. Sue stood in the doorway as a tinny noise came through the iphone Becky Jackson was holding up behind her. Even though Blaine had almost just wet himself like a puppy during a thunderstorm, he was able to note that the music playing was from the score of Mel Brooks 1974 film 'Young Frankenstein,' music made famous by the youtube sensation 'Dramatic Gopher.'

"Sue what the hell do you think you're doing? We're right in the middle of class," Will shouted striding up to stand abreast her.

"Well William, while I usually advocate the liberation of endangered nuisance animals, I am not content to sit back and let you poach my prized rainbow feathered Fla-_homo_-mingo, so I'm here to reclaim him," Sue replied, looking to Kurt and clicking her fingers.

"No one's forcing him to stay Sue, he and the rest of the Cheerio's are here by their own free will," he spoke with emphasized hand gestures.

"Oh but William that's where you - _like you so frequently are -_ **wrong**. I own those children and any _free will_ they hadn't already laid down for whatever auto tuned starlet they were choosing to gyrate to that week. I have in fact, since the day they bartered their souls for the promise of immortal glory that naturally comes with being a member of my cheerleading squad... And speaking of _free will_," she added.

"For the love of all that is holy in this vast and unassuming universe, Will, _will_ you _free_ those Goldie locks on your head from that slathering of honey you obviously stole from the three bears when you broke into their home destroyed their furniture and passed out Lindsey Lohan style in their bed."

Will was spitting with furry, flummoxed with his inability to offer a single retort. Kurt broke the tension by standing from his chair, finally saying something. "Coach Sylvester, I was going to come straight from Glee, it just ran a little long and I wanted to see Blaine perform."

"Porcelain have a little respect. I had to have home economics dropped from the curriculum to pay for these lessons. Bare is mind that _at least _80% of the students currently at this school will either be going into the food service industry, or swim across the Pacific ocean to work in a Nike sweatshop for slightly better benefits. So you should be able to see what a sacrifice has been made to accommodate these lessons for you. Now move your proud Mary ass out of this room and into my le car before I skin you right where you stand, zip myself up in your hide and perform the number myself. _Becky! _Music cue #5!"

Sue stormed out the room as Becky tapped a key on the phone, which began to play the theme from Titanic, Sue turned to her puzzled and said "…That's not right, that was reserved for my clandestine affair with Ryan Seacrest. Becky we've got to work on your cue's." And with that they both left, the door still agape.

"I'm sorry guys duty calls unfortunately," Kurt said gathering his bag. Before he left he gave Blaine's shoulder a squeeze before he blew a kiss like royalty to the room and left.

"Well as disrupting as that was, shall we resume? Blaine, you were auditioning for a solo at sectionals, right?" Will said looking to him, as did the rest of the class. Blaine was slowly coming to his senses and it dawned on him that he couldn't tell the truth, that he had planned to dedicate this song to Kurt and to lay his vulnerable heart down in front of him. The truth would be humiliating and would achieve nothing without the intended recipient even being there.

"O-of course, what else would this be for?" Dejected that his plan had backfired Blaine resumed his place between Artie and Sam who began again. He sang somewhat mournfully and shakily over the opening lyrics:

"_You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset._

_She's going off about something that you said,_

_But she doesn't get your humour like I do."_

He felt the lyrics fall flat like lead and realised that this had been a terrible idea, _thank god Kurt isn't here to see this_ he thought, _there's no conceivable way this plan could have worked._ _I'm stupid to think a boy like him could ever fall for a guy like me._

He carried on into the second verse and as if Brittany were tapping into Blaine's plight she sprang from her chair and went to join him. He was confused as she took his thick framed glasses off and put them on her face, he was near sighted so could still make her out but everything else in his periphery vision blurred away like so much white noise. He continued to sing as he realised what she was doing; dancing out the lyrics and adopting the persona of the nerd.

He smiled broadly laughing internally at her moves as he sang:

"But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts-" Brittany had turned her back to everyone and bent over to flash the audience her cheerio spanx covered rear, then turned around and proceeded to grab a handful of her shirt. Everyone was laughing and then by some unspoken agreement started to lay an acapella harmony over the music of the banjos.

Blaine felt oddly loose and buoyant and the lyrics were now falling effortlessly from his mouth. He could sing well, an Anderberry upbringing would do that for anyone but Blaine had a natural talent. It was a talent he was happy to hide behind his star hungry sister, content just doing back up vocals or playing guitar, piano or violin to Rachel's Broadway hits. But right now in this moment he was twirling, jumping, belting the lyrics and as clichéd as he knew it would sound they came from the bottom of his heart.

He flung his arms open like Jack at the prow of the Titanic then cluched at his heart knees bent and crooned:

"_You belong with me-eee!_

_Have you ever thought just maybe-ee-ee_

_You belong with me-ee-ee_

_You belong with me…"_

Brittany flung her arms around Blaine and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed furiously at the action and at the thunderous applause now echoing around the room. He thought he caught sight of a blur in the doorway, when Mr Schu cut him out of his reverie.

"That was _fantastic! _I had no idea you had something like that in you, WOW! I think everyone would agree we've found this year's soloist for sectionals! Am I right guys -what do you guys think?" Apart from Rachel and Santana everyone cheered and stamped their feet, running to envelope Blaine in a big cluster hug.

"Hold up, as much as I'd _love _to tick 'watch a hobbit crap himself in front of an audience' off my bucket list, are we sure it's such a good idea letting _Lame Anderberry_ humiliate himself in front of that many people? I thought I was the cruel one but…" – "Enough Santana, Blaine is going to fierce on that stage and he's got his Glee family to back him up, right Blaine?" Mercedes cut in over the ice diva.

As oddly jubilant as Blaine felt right now the sudden realisation of actually performing _solo _to a sold out crowd, suddenly came crashing down on him and he honestly felt like he was about to tick off Santana's bucket list item of right there and then. And this was only an audience of _eleven_.

"Err I-I don't…" Blaine was stammering until he caught sight of Brittany staring at him with eyes full of hope, magnified behind his glasses that she was still wearing. She'd just saved him from humiliating himself in front of his only friends in the world, how could he possibly let her down now?

"Sure, bring it on. Stick me in a diaper if you have to!" And everyone laughed in harmony.

….

Kurt had forgotten his coat, and while Sue had very nearly made good on her threat to pretty much turn Kurt into one himself, he ran back to the classroom regardless to grab it. At least he said to himself that was the reason. But as he stood in the doorway, unbeknownst to the kids in Glee who were transfixed on Blaine's performance, he watched as Blaine sang, twirled by Brittany with cheeks flushed and his expression exuberant.

Santana and Rachel were both visibly seething in their chairs. Rachel was harmless enough, as long as she didn't have Blaine's books in her hands, but Kurt made a mental note to keep an eye on Santana. When people tried to muscle in on Brittany she could unleash a very vindictive streak indeed.

Kurt continued to watch as Brittany swung Blaine around like they were doing some kind of cross fusion between jitterbugging and ballroom dancing and he smiled inwardly. He was glad to finally see Blaine coming out of his shell, in truth just glad to finally see him happy again. There'd been a cloud hovering over him the past couple weeks and for the life of Kurt he had no idea why. He felt guilty, wrapped in his own blanket of recent happiness, while his best friend was so cold and unhappy.

The song was coming to an end and Blaine was belting out the final lyrics to the song which Kurt now recognized as _You Belong With Me. _He chuckled, knowing Blaine's weak spot for country music and now apparently his weakness for cute blonde girls.

Kurt was so happy to see the friendship that had blossomed between Brittany and Blaine. He couldn't help but notice that opposites had so perfectly attracted: girl/boy, popular/shy, bright/dim, pretty/… he couldn't finish that thought. As nerdy as Blaine dressed and styled his hair, he wasn't _unattractive_ in fact…

Just then Blaine's eyes flicked up and looked at him, curious but unrecognising. Kurt could see why, he knew just how blind Blaine could be without his glasses and he found himself hiding behind the wall. He felt oddly voyeuristic and scrambled down the corridor lest Blaine found out that he'd been spying.

Kurt ran to meet the irate Sue in her Le Car, which was idling as close to the front door as humanly possible. She ranted furiously at him in the car, noting angrily that he hadn't even gotten his coat. How could she possibly expect him to pull off their routine for the tournament if he couldn't focus enough to even remember his coat?

Whilst she ranted she sped down the road with reckless abandonment, flattening a squirrel and nearly a pack of children who at the last second had the sense to make a run for it. Kurt however couldn't retain a word she was saying because Blaine's liquid gold eyes, naked without his glasses, were imprinted on his mind.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven:

Blaine was sat up in bed reading a worn copy of _Jane Eyre_ by torchlight, the pages turning softer than butter. Propped against up against the headboard of his bed, his washed hair was an unruly dark halo of soft curls that cushioned him like a cloud. He felt weightless and serene as if he was floating softly in a bubble.

The bubble burst when a sudden clatter came to Blaine's window. There was a persistent shaking like someone was trying to wrench the locked window open.

Terrified Blaine dropped the book from his hands onto the bed and sat up on all fours like a frightened, vulnerable, woodland creature, sensing a predator and confused at what to do. He wanted to call for help but his voice felt suddenly thick and all he could think of to do was to hold the hardback book like a brick over his head, whilst he crept to examine the window.

Pale hands were jerking at the frame and for a fleeting moment he thought it might be a ghost, _Mr Rochester's dead wife? _He pondered,but then desperate sapphire eyes locked on his and he recognised the would-be intruder. Blaine dropped the volume on the bed and went to let Kurt in.

Kurt lumbered through the window, knocking an ornament of a bird off the ledge and tangling in the curtains, it was uncharacteristically clumsy, Blaine noted. As often as Kurt would sneak into his room, trying to break in at… _wait what time was it even?_ Blaine couldn't seem to see a clock anywhere… anyway; this was not a usual occurrence. In fact he only had one very old and faraway memory of Kurt ever doing anything remotely like this.

"Kurt, what on earth's gotten into you it's the middle of –" Blaine started having found his voice but Kurt was already cutting in, disregarding Blaine's questions, sitting up on bent knees and fidgeting. "I just- I-I couldn't stay home longer, I mean a moment, a second, a, I-I-uh just- _urgh!_ I had, I-I _had_ to see you, this can't wait any longer," Kurt words were frantic and ill fitted, as if in his haste to get them out as fast as possible he was disregarding all logic and sense.

Blaine nervously felt himself inching backwards towards the headboard like a crab, hands palm flat behind him, knees still bent, his ass dragging along the comforter of the small bed. But Kurt was following him on all fours fiercely like something feline and wild.

He even looked wild; his usually tame hair was in disarray, the Cheerio's uniform dishevelled – why was he even _in _his uniform? Blaine wondered absentmindedly, the question dissolving as soon as he thought it; he was more concerned with why Kurt was here and why he was so… so…

"Blaine I saw you, I saw you sing that song, and I just- I couldn't- I don't – I… _Urgh_!" _He'd seen me? But how? _Blaine thought as his heart began racing, powered by the frenzied pumping of adrenaline.

Kurt continued, "Everything's changed and I can't get you out of my head, I can't believe how blind I've been, I'm in _love_ with you. I-I…" Blaine felt his heart burst in his chest like a piñata.

Kurt was gazing at him, his eyes dark but sparkling and Blaine lost all feeling in his body, his knees gibing way so that they feel like tentacles on the bed. Kurt was crawling over his body in haste, his chest dragging up along Blaine's comatose body, hands planting either side of his head and catching roughly at his curls. Kurt abruptly hurtled his face at Blaine's as if he were a comet and Blaine only just had time to close his eyes before Kurt drew his lips to Blaine's.

And this was it! He was kissing him _actually _kissing him! And it felt… well, honestly it didn't feel like he'd expected it to feel. It was a lot wetter than he'd imagined, pretty warm though but he was breathing hotly over his nose and eyes and it tasted… well it sort of well like sweat and gravy and –

Blaine's eyes flew open and he became acutely aware of the body on top of him. "Bowtie! Jeeze what?" The dozy dog was standing over Blaine's head, licking his face like a bone, a paw tangled in the acutely frizzed curls. Blaine wrenched himself into a sitting position, knocking the old dog off his body. He landed on the floor with a bark and there was a muffled call from the next room.

"Errph… Blaaaaaine, it's urgh it's _5:45am – _pack it in! Take him for a walk or something_._" Even through the wall the dog could make out the distinct magic word _walk_. He sat up on his haunches and started whining, scratching at his flank with a wayward leg.

As Blaine put his glasses on it finally dawned on him with a crashing realisation that Kurt was not in his room. Kurt had not been kissing him and of course Kurt had not heard his song. He'd been dreaming. The air he hadn't realised had been holding, suddenly gush out of him.

He flopped back on the pillows spent and groaning, rubbing his wet face exasperatedly. His bedroom door flung open, and he sat bolt upright. Rachel stood furiously in the doorway, her hands on hips; she slurred a few choice words at Blaine through her retainer before slamming the door again, eliciting more shouts from the next room.

_Urgh, who needs an alarm when you're an Anderberry?_ Blaine thought petulantly.

….

The air was cool for mid October and the sky was only just beginning to lighten to a dismal grey. He shook under the coat that his blue and white striped pyjamas covered. In his haste to get out of the house before his dads and sister assembled to lynch like a crowd of torch wielding villagers, he'd only had time to throw on his thick peacoat over his PJ's and slide into a pair of worn slip on sneakers (glad at least that he'd slept in his socks).

Bowtie was shaking from the force of his wagging tale and Blaine had difficulty in clipping the buberryesq leash to his collar (a gift from Kurt who advocated that as fashion has no gender, it also has no species). When he'd finally gotten himself and Bowtie ready he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him definitively.

Blaine paced the damp pavement, the excited beast bouncing along at his heels, looking in all directions like everything was brand new and exciting and not the same path they had in fact walked a thousand times before. As old as Bowtie was getting he was still just the same puppy at heart that Blaine had found under the tree of his first Christmas/Hanukah as an official Anderberry, wearing the little red bowtie he was named for.

Bowtie was starting to strain on the leash as they came to the path that wound into the park, _well wood practically _Blaine thought the trees and wild flowers were so thick that only the presence of a pond and play area really made it a park. Blaine indulged his excitement by striding a little faster, _after all at least one of us should get what we want today_, Blaine thought bitterly.

Blaine's mood had been dour as he'd left the house, contemplating recent events in his mind. His failed attempt to serenade Kurt had the double sting of landing him this year's solo at sectionals, a thought that gave his stomach the feeling of performing Kurt's triple axel. Why had he listened to Puck – about romance of all things? This was the boy who'd been suspended from school when he'd read allowed his 'love poem' in English:

My name is Puck

_And I like to-_

Bowtie suddenly wrenched at the leash in Blaine's hand and he stumbled. He was bounding up to a familiar tree, it's long low hanging branch barely missing the surface of the stream that ran along side it. This tree was familiar to both of them because it where they'd met Kurt.

Bowtie circled the tree sniffing for something intangible whilst tangling himself up in his fashionable leash. Blaine's despondency began to dissolve as he stroked the rough bark of the tree with affection. _This is mine and Kurt's tree_ he thought reminiscing.

This was the tree where they'd played house on Kurt's picnic blanket. The memory of an eight-year-old Kurt presented Blaine with a leaf covered in the daises and grass, as if it were a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. He'd even eaten one to make Kurt laugh then proceeded to throw it up in the stream that swam past by it so closely.

This was the tree they spent their summers under basking in its shade, Blaine reading thick books and Kurt sketching designs on a large pad. Once he'd even managed to sneakily draw Blaine, a boy who cowered from cameras and mirrors. Mortified he'd begged Kurt to destroy it.

It was the same tree that Kurt had convinced a timid little Blaine to climb one day after school at age eleven. Sat high in the tree he'd stared at the knotted hands in his lap. This was only time he'd seen Kurt's courage falter and quietly he'd told Blaine he _like _liked boys. All Blaine could think was that he kind of sort of _like _liked him but all he said in a hushed voice was: _'Me too.' _

Kurt breaking the gaze from his hands had looked at Blaine with a hopeful smile and for just the length of a heartbeat he'd thought he'd seen Kurt twitch in his direction, daring to hope he might have his first kiss.

Until his sister had spotted them gazing at each other and yelled: "Kurt and Blaine. Sitting in a tree. K-I-S…" she didn't get far before Kurt had leapt from the tree with the moves of a cat and chased her through the trees.

He could hear her shrill screams reverberate through the thick expanse of trees. Blaine had then realised he was alone and very high off the ground and became paralysed with fear. Even when Kurt returned flushed and panting he couldn't coax Blaine from the tree and it had taken Burt climbing up and throwing him over his shoulder to get him down.

"I hope you're not planning on climbing that tree again," a familiar voice drawled. There as if he'd stepped right out of Blaine's memory and into the present was Kurt's father, still clad in the flannel and baseball cap he'd wore like a second skin since Blaine could remember. In fact the only time he'd seen him out of it had been last summer when he's married Carole.

Blaine had fond memories of their wedding, close enough to the family that he'd been asked to be a groomsman, while Kurt had stood by Burt's side as his best man. When all eyes had turned to see Carole enter in her gown Blaine had snuck a peek at Kurt standing at the alter in a beautifully tailored suit, fantasizing for a moment about what it would be like if Kurt was standing there, waiting for Blaine…

"Don't think the old heart could take another round of dragging your ass down," Burt continued chortling and Blaine flushed. As much as Burt had told Blaine it wasn't his fault he'd still felt guilty when he'd had the heart attack that had almost killed him just days after the incident. He wasn't the only one to blame himself; even Kurt had thought he'd had something to do with it as he'd come out to his father shortly after he'd spoken to Blaine in the tree.

Burt assuaged both of them their guilt by reminding them that a diet of steak and burgers coupled with exercise that was pretty much refined to channel surfing, was what had done it. And besides he'd told Kurt he knew he was gay since he was three years old and all he'd wanted for his birthday was a pair of _sensible heels_.

"Don't worry, _nothing_ could get me back up in that tree," Blaine said smiling and readjusting the crooked glasses on his nose. He was still waiting for the replacement pair to arrive and while the tape just about kept them together they didn't sit quite as well as they had done.

"So what brings you here?" Blaine asked. Even though Kurt's house backed onto the park like an extended backyard he rarely saw Burt on his morning walks with Bowtie.

"Doc gets me to go for a walk everyday, I usually take it on break but we're leaving in a couple hours for Hawaii and I'm not getting out of it just 'cause I'm on vacation. Carole says she wants to outlive at least _one _of her husbands," he chuckled and Blaine smiled back courteously.

The way he and Carole could laugh off the tragedy he'd had in his life was admirable in some respects, it differed greatly to Kurt who kept a guarded heart on both the topic of his father's heart attack and his mother. Blaine supposed they all had their own ways of coping.

"I should be getting back before Kurt messes with all the clothes in my suitcase. He's determined to get me wearing 'koo-tour' before he heads off to New York," Blaine laughed, he knew as well at Burt did what it was like to have Kurt obsess over your wardrobe, he'd been trying to dress Blaine like a doll since his leg cast had come off, but he'd resolutely clung to his bowties and shirts to Kurt's eternal exasperation.

"Sure thing, have a good time in Hawaii," Blaine said, turning to leave.

"Oh but one thing Blaine," Blaine turned back to Burt, "You keep an eye on Kurt. Figures he'd wait for us to leave the state before he started dating someone... well properly. He's got bigger googol eyes for that _Sebastian_ kid than that werewolf kid in those dapey vampire flicks he keeps makin' us watch."

Blaine laughed; he missed the days when his only competition was a straight fictional character. Although Kurt swore that Jacob was gay, after what he'd dubbed the most homoerotic tent scene since Brokeback Mountain.

"Anyway, you just uh, make sure he keeps his head, don't let him do anything you wouldn't. You're a good kid Blaine," Burt said slapping a bear hand on his arm just bellow his shoulder.

"Thanks Mr H-Burt," Blaine still couldn't get used to addressing him informally. "I will but Kurt's a um good kid too," he answered.

"I know…" Burt answered conspiratorially. "But that Sebastian kid _is not._"

….

Having walked Bowtie a little earlier than normal a rippling effect had occurred affecting his usual Wednesday morning activities. He's beaten Rachel to the shower, had the first bagel in the pack for breakfast and gotten the prime space in the parking lot in school.

The only way he could be any closer to the entrance was if he'd parked in the no stopping zone in front of the path that led to the front door. Like the shiny black BMW he saw as he strolled in.

He could just about make out a couple through the tinted windows, but couldn't work out who they were, the car seemed somewhat familiar, and out of place considering the other vehicles. Even Mr Schu's car with its dragging exhaust was still one of the nicer ones.

He noticed two Lima Bean take away cups were perched on the roof, abandoned to leave their owners hands free for other activities. It was when he spotted the vivid red wristband sat high up his arm in his trademark style, that he realised who they were.

Kurt and Sebastian were leaning against his car and making out, and he fel this breakfast bagel trying to make a desperate escape through his throat. This was not fair, how could this even be right? He'd been helping Burt pack. He tried to turn carefully on his heels and try to escape when -

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, his voice a little husky. He cleared his voice and looked somewhat embarrassed trying to pry himself a little away from Sebastian who would not comply, leaving his arms in a casual but vice like grip around Kurt's waist. He twisted around though so he could at least look at Blaine.

Blaine didn't like the possessive way Sebastian held Kurt. There was something in the way he dangled him like a toy in front of Blaine, like he relished in letting him know he couldn't have him because he _owned _him. It struck Blaine that he probably did regard Kurt as an object and it did not sit well with him at all.

Blaine hadn't said anything yet and he felt Sebastian smirking as if it was his doing that Blaine couldn't articulate himself. Blaine mustered as much dignity as he could before he spoke, "Morning Kurt, Sebastian, you're early."

"Sebastian picked me up by surprise this morning and we went for coffee…" Kurt said, he was giving Blaine the oddest of looks, sort of squinting maybe a little embarrassed. "I can see." Blaine said indicating the cups on the roof."

Kurt looked to the cups and blushed some more, "I'm leaving for New York in a couple hours, mother wants me to meet a few benefactors before my college interviews. Formality really, I'm a legacy after all," he drawled, cutting into Kurt and Blaine's conversation. "But I wanted to see Kurt before I left."

Kurt withdrew his eyes and gave something of a pout to Sebastian, "You're missing my party." Sebastian squeezed him in closer like a snake, "I prefer _private _parties anyway," he whispered but not quietly enough for Blaine to miss and he knew it.

"I sh-should get inside, I'll see you later Kurt," loosing any shred of dignity he'd managed to muster he started to trudge to the entrance. But Kurt was extraditing himself from Sebastian and catching up to Blaine, "Wait I'm coming too, I'll see you Sunday Seb, leaving a kiss on his cheek before running to catch Blaine up.

They walked through the door in silence Kurt giving Sebastian one last wave, before striking up conversation with Blaine. "I'm such a bad son, I totally wanted to say bye before they left but I'm helpless when it comes to my caffeine addiction."

"I'm sure he won't mind Kurt," Blaine said staring resolutely ahead. Finn suddenly appeared from around the corner. "Hey dudes."

"Finn, what are you even doing here this early?" Kurt asked surprised to see his stepbrother. "Coach Beiste told me to come in. Says they're scouting in Schenectady on Friday and she wants me to go up, they're just working out the details. But don't worry I'll be back in time for the party."

Kurt blanched, "And what I'm going to have to set up _all_ by myself?"

"Dude, you like, stick and bowl of chips out and stick an ipod on shuffle it's not _that _hard," Finn was shrugging like he didn't get the big deal.

"I'm a _Cheerio_ Finn, we have standards to uphold, Blaine can you please explain to Finn cause he obviously doesn't know what _standards _are," Kurt said indicating his outfit.

"_A level of quality or attainment,"_ he responded without pause, it sounded as if he were quoting verbatim. Finn looked confounded and even Kurt looked mildly surprised at Blaine's quick tongue. "Sometimes I swear you swallowed the whole dictionary," Kurt said.

"You can't say that, he's gay, that's not cool," Finn shot back.

Kurt gave Finn a reproachful look before shuddering, "Just… just go Finn, before you embarrass yourself anymore. Oh! And you're on clean up if you're leaving me to set up – _Kurt _clean, not just bag the bottles and cans and fabreeze the furniture, like you did last time."

"Fine," and with that he strode off to the locker room, with the grace of a pantomime giant. "It astounds me that a woman like Carole could birth something so troglodyte… when did everyone decide to scamper off at once? Do I reek or something?"

For dramatic emphasis Kurt leaned his neck towards Blaine who took a sniff, he smelt like cotton, coffee and something flowery mixed with some kind of sharp cologne that burned his nostrils just a little. _Sebastian._

"You smell fine," Blaine responded flippantly. Well duh of course I do, you're so… literal Blaine," Kurt answered him back in a clipped voice.

"I have to be, Brittany gets confused if I'm not," Blaine added defensively. "You and Brittany…" Kurt laughed, "I had no idea when I asked you to help her study I'd be creating _Braine_."

"I'm sorry – what?" Blaine asked, genuine confusion clouding his face.

"Jacob posted it on his blog, apparently you caused quite a stir with your performance in Glee the other day… Oh! I can't believe I haven't even congratulated you yet." He suddenly flung his arms around Blaine, the shock of it rendering him speechless.

"I can't believe _you _are actually going to solo! … I-I wish I'd seen it," Kurt bit his lip and his eyes twitched to Blaine's, there was something secretive and questioning about his expression. It was enough to make Blaine wonder _what had Jacob written? _He'd have to read his blog post as soon as he could.

A locker door slammed and there appeared Rachel fuming, "You mean the solo he stole from _me._ The levels your audacity can sink to are appalling Blaine. It's not enough for you to mess with my love life but now you're trying to ruin my career."

Blaine was still rendered inarticulate from Kurt's full body assault and couldn't seem to string a sentence together. But Kurt was on it.

"At least you have Blaine to blame now, must be a comfort to know you won't be rejected _solely _on the basis of your drag queen Barbra Streisand act and for lack of a better word 'personality'" She let out a sound something like a hamster might mke just before you stepped on it and with furrowed brows she clomped away. But not before knocking into Blaine and saying, "Sleep with one eye open _brother_"

Her footsteps could be heard for some time before Kurt began speaking again, "I don't know how you physically can live with that, I thought _Finn_ was bad enough but…"

"She's not usually this bad, she's antsy cause she's trying to get into NYADA. Plus she tends to get a little crazy when she fights with Finn," Blaine said trying in vain to defend her sister.

"She's _always_ fighting with Finn, thus she is _always_ this crazy, you're just to nice for your own good. Anyway, you need a break from the crazy and I need help setting up my party sooo brainwave _you _are sleeping over Friday night!"

Blaine paled, a sleepover at Kurt's empty house? On date night? How oblivious could Kurt be? "I've got work that night and I'm helping Brittany study Saturday afternoon…"

"Perfect; you can come straight from work, I'll cook - something nutritious of course, you're getting a total bubble butt from all the backed goods I've been sending you."

Blaine blushed and took an instant and regrettable look at his own ass, making Kurt laugh raucously.

"Then Saturday you can help me set up before you go over to Britt's you guys can come together and I don't have to worry about her getting lose in the park again!"

"You're not going to take no for an answer are you?"

"Do I ever?"

"Good Point."

They said their goodbyes and went to their separate homerooms, Blaine looking over his shoulder at lithe frame of Kurt retreating through the door. Blaine turned the prospect over in his mind. A sleepover at Kurt's… was this such a good idea?

…

**Thanks for reading, shall try to post again soon :)**

**Ps. Do not fear there will be a kliss… **


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight:

"These people won't stop staring at me."

"Brittany they're just photos, keep writing you have…" Blaine shifted on the bed, looking up from the paper over his lap to the pocket watch laced through his fingers, "Seven minutes left."

"But it feels like I'm back in the zoo. I keep thinking the zookeeper is going to bring me food and it's making me hungry. It's super distracting," she'd spun away from the desk to look at Blaine as she said this. "You're hungry because Sue refuses to let you eat. Be quiet and finish the test and after I'll make you a snack," he held a finger up and made a revolving gesture.

Shoulders drooping Brittany relented and revolved back to her place at the test. However Blaine occasionally caught her glancing up to the line of photos, chewing the end of her _magic _pen suspiciously. He sighed and went back to rereading the article in the Muckraker for about the twenty-seventh time since he'd been given the copy yesterday.

After his conversation with Kurt he'd planned on going to the library to look up Jacob's blog on one of the schools computers. However much to his immortal chagrin he'd been cut off by Mike who'd handed him the paper with pity in his eyes, open to the page where the article had made it into print titled: _Glee Wiz! That's An Odd Couple…_

Hallway Hobbit Blaine Anderberry, brother of Rachel the mouth watering Jewish princess who puts the 'dish' in Yiddish, is sporting a new blonde beard, in the form of our very own Ms. Brittany S. Pierce.

The article went on to detail a few facts laced with a lot of the Muckrakers signature, well… muck. But the gist of it was that Blaine was using naïve Brittany as a way of hiding his obvious gay status, the status of which Blaine had stopped bothering to hide quite a few years now. It was kind of obvious after all.

That and as Kurt had already told him they'd been branded _Braine… _he groaned and returned his gaze to the pocket watch: _seven…six…five…four…three…two…one._

"Ok that's time Brittany, pencils down."

"It's a pen Blaine."

"…Right Brittany, pen down then."

She stood up and started stretching, she'd been at the paper for an hour now and all her muscles were tense and restless from inactivity. Idleness seemed to take a physical toll on Brittany who appeared to always be in perpetual motion. Half the battle with tutoring Brittany was just keeping her in her seat.

Blaine took possession of Brittany's now vacant chair and started to read over her answers as she began to do little dance moves around the room, the flaps of her cheerio's skirt following the movement. It befuddled Blaine how she could possibly keep warm in such an outfit, although this could very well account for why she was constantly moving. Fortunately for Kurt his uniform entailed long pants and a top with sleeves because he was perpetually cold, wearing thick coats and scarves right into May. This constant feeling of cold was a blessing for Blaine as it had meant that he often sought the warmth that Blaine radiated by holding his hand or cuddling.

Blaine ticked off some of the questions, regrettably placing crosses next to more answers than he'd like to. While twirling on the spot Brittany began to chatter, her voice still registering a monotone despite the exertion, "Why didn't you listen to my advice?" Blaine was genuinely perplexed, but waved it off and continued to mark the answers, smiling and giving the answer to a particularly difficult question an extra large tick. "…I'm sorry Britt, what advice?" he asked.

"You know, about Kurt and birds." That got Blaine's attention. Frowning the pen skidded on the paper and the cross he'd been drawing was now dramatically uneven. "Uh- erm, I don't… Britt I don't know what you're talking about," he attempted to put conviction into the end of his sentence but his rigid shoulders were a dead giveaway. Without stopping she continued to talk. "Yes you do. Don't act stupid. You're not me."

"I told you to stop calling yourself that Britt," Blaine chastised her; he didn't like it when Brittany put herself down. Besides she clearly wasn't stupid, she'd seen right through Blaine on Sunday when she'd held the picture of Kurt and Blaine. And she'd obviously worked out why he'd sung that song in Glee club on Tuesday. Even if Kurt hadn't gotten to hear it…

"You sang that song for Kurt," she said confirming Blaine's suspicions. He sighed, there wasn't any point trying to hide it now so he answered her, "…_Yes_." Continuing her dance she spun around until she was facing one of the wide bookshelves, grazing her fingers across the bindings of the neatly stacked books as she wiggled her hips from side to side like a belly dancer. As if she'd flicked her internal dance switch off she stuttered to a halt, plucking out a book and went to lie down on Blaine's bed.

Blaine returned to her test to finish marking it, he knew this wasn't over but he hoped the book now in her lap might distract her enough to forget the painfully embarrassing subject. With the academic progress she'd made recently he was disheartened to see her answer to question 27. A triangle was drawn with one side saying _3cm _another side saying _4cm_ and the last side saying x – the question was simple, all it said was _Fine X. _Brittany had circled the x on the longest side and drawn an arrow to a little writing that said: '_here it is'._

Her test was in less than a week, which worried him. When he could put a question into perspective she could answer it fine but without some degree of guidance she had the tendency to take questions a little too literally. He'd had to prise the phone out of her hand before she called 911 when asked: _how long before train A and train B collide, _filled with concern for the fictitious people on the trains.

"I told you that '_actions speak louder than birds' _– why did you do the opposite of what I said?" Blaine collected himself and swivelled to look at Brittany who was flicking through the book, not even looking up as she spoke. The book was large but he couldn't see the title or even make out it's subject, her knees hid it by bending up to act like a plinth, holding the book in place. With the hand not flicking the pages she caressed the smooth pages and he appreciated the respect and reverence she gave his books.

Abandoning the test altogether Blaine focussed his face entirely on Brittany. In the decade Blaine had known Kurt he'd never had anyone to confide in his feelings. This was the kind of topic one would discuss with their best friend, but he obviously couldn't discuss his unrequited feelings for Kurt with Kurt. Instead they weighed his shoulders down like a tangible object, as if he were Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. He hadn't realised what a physical relief it would be to just talk about it. "I thought about what you said and I wanted to do… _something_… Puck made a couple of suggestions at work, I mean singing has worked for him before so…"

"And how long do any of Puck's relationships last?" It was a valid point, Lauren had been Puck's longest relationship and that mostly seemed to be a cat and mouse game between the two of them. He couldn't help picturing Lord Tubbington in his mind holding the tail of a tiny mouse with a fauxhawk. "Besides, singing is what birds do. I told you to take action."

"But what does that even mean Britt, I don't understand what you're saying, can you explain it to me?" The role reversal was laughably ironic. After the weeks Blaine had spent tutoring her, the roles had flipped and now she was the teacher, the book in her lap somehow emphasizing the point.

"Kurt is under a spell. A princess coma. Like when they eat the apple or they prick their finger. H can't hear you and even if he could see you all he'd see is the boy he met when he was a kid. That's part of the spell. You have to break it and the only way you'll only be able to do that is by taking _action,_" he could understand Brittany to a point and this honestly worried Blaine as they'd obviously been spending too much time together is this was true. But he was still baffled, what could she possibly mean by action?

"What _action_ Brittany? How do you propose I wake him up?"

She stopped leafing through the pages in the book and held up the page she'd been studying for Blaine to see. Peering through the glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose, he studied the picture on the page; it was a full colour illustration from the Disney's Snow White, the prince leaning in over the princess to give her the kiss he knew would wake her up.

Oh…

….

Without explanation Puck had shut up the Lima Bean early on Friday night. He had seemed oddly on edge, his usual bravado replaced by nervous ticks including glancing anxiously over his shoulder as he locked the door. Considering recent events that had occurred in the little coffee shop, Blaine had no desire to know why.

Although this should have been a fortuitous turn of events, granting him quicker access to his evening with Kurt, Blaine couldn't quite locate the happiness he _should_ be feeling. He hadn't thought Brittany could fluster him more than when she'd confessed her knowledge of Blaine's feelings for Kurt almost a week ago. However her message could not possibly have been any clearer when she'd shown Blaine that image. It left his mouth as dry as wax paper and disturbed his thoughts so that they swarmed inside him like bees.

And here Blaine was going to Kurt's house. Kurt's empty house. For a sleepover…

They'd had many sleepovers over the past ten years, so many that he'd lost count and evidently Blaine was very good at counting. For example he was able to recall that they had watched Moulin Rouge seventeen times together (Kurt's favourite which Blaine indulged) and Kurt had worn Blaine's favourite long striped navy sweater eleven times, just to name a couple.

While driving to Kurt's house he chose to listen to a playlist of instrumental piano music as lately he found he couldn't listen to the lyrics of a song without picturing Kurt in one way or another. Besides he enjoyed the melancholy plinking of the piano, it calmed the tension in his muscles and harmonized with the rain that was just beginning to patter on his windscreen.

When he left the main roads and began to thread through the suburban streets the pattering rain took a more sinister turn and started to lash against the window until the suburban landscape bled like a Monet painting. Blaine kept a slow pace and wound around corners carefully until he arrived at Kurt's house, pulling up in the vacant spot Kurt would normally park his Navigator, if it weren't still held hostage at Burt's garage. Blaine looked to Kurt's house, it glowed in the lamplight enticingly and even as rain bucketed from the sky in streaks as thick as glittering ribbons, he could still feel the warmth and shelter that the house provided.

With one final sigh Blaine grabbed his bag and ran for the house, dodging the puddles as best he could but getting drenched before his fist could find the door. He banged loudly and shifted from heel to heel as he waited to Kurt to let him in. After this received no response he tried again and wrapped his arms around him tightly across his chest scolding himself for not remembering his coat, picturing it in his mind still hanging on the hook in the office of the Lima Bean.

He attempted to pound the door again but it was pointless and he wondered if Kurt had forgotten their plans entirely, _was he even home_? He was close to turning around and returning home when he became aware of a sound breaking through the relentless hammering of the rain. It came from inside the house and he realised it was music, loud music. Knocking he realised would be a futile endeavour. He briefly considered trying to call him but a.) he didn't want his phone damaged by the rain and b.) if he couldn't hear his knocking what chance did he have of hearing his phone ring?

Changing tactics he ran around the back of the house until he came to the path that snaked the back of Kurt's house, boarding the park that was like an extended garden. Blaine pushed through the door of the brick fence that was luckily unlocked and tore through the door and across Kurt's actual back garden. Running to the backdoor of the kitchen, his shoes had begun to make an audible squelching noise, he swiped a hand over the fogged glass and gawked through the window until his eyes rested on the blurred figure of Kurt.

Now Blaine was acutely aware that he should be banging on the door by now. Alerting Kurt to his presence would gain Blaine entry to the house so that he could finally get out of the rain. His frozen body was shaking as it protested furiously at his hesitance to perform this simple action. However Blaine was transfixed on Kurt who was dancing with ferocity in the kitchen.

It occurred to Blaine in the back of his mind as he watched Kurt that the song was _Filthy Gorgeous _by _Scissor Sisters. _It was one of Kurt's favourite bands and he'd played their music countless times for Blaine. He would dance playfully to their eclectic lyrics with the kind of moves a first grader might perform in a rendition of _I'm a little teapot_. But these moves were highly choreographed and had a sinuous powerful energy; all back arching, floor slithering, hip rolling and wandering hands that mapped his body. Kurt was doing deliciously obscene things to the air.

All of a sudden Kurt pulled the widow maker; a move Blaine's thighs remembered vividly from the time Kurt had spent teaching him for Glee, (they'd burned for a week after) and on the second rotation his intent eyes caught sight of drenched and peering Blaine through the window and he screamed.

Blaine recoiled, taking a sharp step back he slide on the saturated concrete and fell backwards. Disoriented by his backpack he flailed around with the grace of a turtle that had accidentally rolled onto its back and struggled to regain balance. The Door flung open and Kurt was stood gasping for air chanting, "…you…you…you scared the Liza Mineli out of me! What are you doing here so early?" He grabbed for Blaine's hand who flinched, he'd grazed it on some gravel and a little blood was already blooming on the surface. Kurt pulled him into the house where he proceeded to melt onto the backdoor mat, shivering. "G-g-g-ot offff early."

"You're _soaked_ – wait here," Kurt disappeared into the small utility closet next to the kitchen as Blaine shuddered on the mat. He returned seconds later with the largest fluffiest towel Blaine could imagine and as he reached a shining appreciative arm to take it from Kurt's hand, he watched it retreat backwards. "Oh no! You are not treading coffee grinds and the contents of the sky into the Hummel-Hudson carpets. Strip off and then you can wrap up all nice and snug in mister towel and then take a trip upstairs to visit mister shower!"

An unexpected noise; sort of a mashup of a gasp and a whimper, slipped out of Blaine's lips as an abrupt blush crawled up his neck and into his cheeks, almost pleasantly thawing him. Kurt scrutinized him with one hand on his hip and Blaine came to the realisation that he was not going to be able to side step this miserable humiliation. Blaine exchanged a fraught look with Kurt through doe eyes that were half hidden behind his misted glasses, slipping precariously off the end of his nose. Biting his trembling lip he replied, "C-c-could you um t-t-turn…" he couldn't finish the sentence and he implored Kurt to understand.

Kurt realised he was still staring and caught himself, "Oh sorry where are my manners…" He spun on the spot and reluctantly Blaine began to remove the layers that had plastered themselves to his olive skin. "Oh that's right, I think you frightened them off into the night with that little stunt you just pulled!" Blaine grimaced and apologised as his sodden clothes started to slap audibly on the tiles at his feet. "Sorry, I was distracted, your dancing was really um good…"

"You're _forgiven_ I suppose and thanks. I was just practising a little floor work for the tournament, we're doubling up the routine in case Brittany fails and has to drop out," Kurt added. Blaine was finally down to his green boxer briefs when Kurt added "And don't forget your panties! I'm not doing two loads." The blush that had localised in the north of Blaine's body took a sudden detour south until he started to resemble a Floridian tourist who'd forgotten to apply sunscreen.

When he'd finally shed the last layer of clothing he quickly wrapped up in the towel and ran through the kitchen, careful not to slip like he had in the back garden. Sprawling out naked on Kurt's kitchen floor now would be the kind of terminal embarrassment he could never possibly recover from.

As he made his hasty retreat Kurt called, "Am I safe to look?" The slamming of his upstairs en suite resounded answering his question and he chuckled going to pick up the discarded clothes to throw in the washer. As he gathered them up he could smell the dense aroma of rain, mingled with faint traces of coffee and a spice he could never quite put his finger on. The same smell he always associated with Blaine.

…

Blaine had been standing under the hot pulsating spray of Kurt's en suit shower for five minutes now without even reaching among the cacophony of florescent plastic bottles in front of him. He was concentrating solely on absorbing as much heat as he could through his pours and into his glacial bones.

At last he reached out a hesitant hand and selected a bottle at random, an orange one that when he flicked the lid assaulted his nostrils with the scent of jasmine. He held it close to his nearsighted eyes, trying to decipher if he should put it in his hair or on his skin, when the door banged open. Startled Blaine dropped the mystery bottle and it clattered loudly against the ceramic floor. Blaine cursed, eliciting a chuckle from the intruder.

"And here I thought your rhetoric was so _dapper_," Kurt said with the edge of delighted sarcasm. "Even Rachel knocks before she…" Blaine began but blanched at a hideous memory and changed the subject, "So anyway, not to be rude, but what _are_ you doing in here?"

"Ungrateful much? I'm Dropping off your PJ's. Just running up the stairs in a towel you'd think I'd asked you to recite your diary at a school assembly. Oh and this -" Kurt's porcelain arm appirated in front of Blaine as it breached the boundary of the shower curtain, in his clasped fingers he held a silver and turquoise coloured bottle.

Blaine gazed at the appendage that hovered so close to his vulnerable naked body and repressed the unexpected urge to grab Kurt's arm and pull him inside the cubicle. Brittany's illustration was still etched on his mind and for a moment Blaine contemplated what it would be like to kiss Kurt under a waterfall.

"Uh Blaine, I know you're blind without your glasses but…"

"Right! Sorry!" He reached out and fumbled for the bottle, "And this is for…?" Blaine asked, Kurt gave a playful sigh, "Your hair silly, it's designed for people with thick hair. I brought it for Finn but like the rest of his personal hygiene products it remained untouched. The boy uses lynx like it's water, it's _revolting._"

"Thanks Kurt," Blaine said as he heard the footsteps retreating. Before the door clicked shut Kurt had one final thing to add, "Oh I made cheese-less vegetarian pizza for dinner. We'll can eat it on my bed while we watch a movie." For a moment Blaine lost all composure of his heart muscle and was in danger of dropping this bottle as well. Steeling himself Blaine dolloped a generous portion of the product on his hand releasing the tart but pleasant scent of ginger and lemongrass. He massaged it into his hair, attempting to calm the swarm of butterflies that had suddenly begun to riot in his chest.

…..

"Here," Kurt said handing Blaine a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the steam rising in little smoke signals. Blaine reached for it gratefully and took a small scolding sip before placing it on an old magazine lying on Kurt's nightstand. This wasn't the only artifice strewn around, mood boards stood propped up on every available flat surface, covered in Kurt's original designs and magazine racks overflowed with bursting sketch pads that leaked fabric at their curled edges.

Blaine resumed his previous position, pressed back against the pillows, legs crossed against his body in the fetal position with his chin resting lightly on his knees. For the first time in a long time Blaine felt relaxed; he'd just consumed two thirds of a pizza (decorated with vegetables in the shapes of blooming flowers) and was now watching Moulin Rouge with Kurt for the eighteenth time. He had tried to persuade him to watch something a little less romantic but when Kurt wanted something, very little could be done to persuade him otherwise.

While they'd been eating and watching the cancan Kurt had cast Blaine sideways glances, giggling quietly to himself. Blaine kept checking to see if he'd dropped a radish rose on his PJs but could tell this was not the case. When he'd questioned Kurt he'd said in his most elusive and infuriating voice, "_You'll see…"_

Kurt clad in his silk navy pyjamas that glimmered in the subdued light was now lying across the bed on his stomach, legs kicked up in the air and crossed over one another, sipping at what smelled like herbal tea. He'd abruptly offered to make them hot beverages during the Roxanne number, dashing out of the room. Blaine had offered to pause the movie but he'd waved him off and told him to carry on without him. It surprised Blaine because he knew how much Kurt adored the Roxanne sequence.

In an off hand voice Blaine spoke, "Finally gone off Roxanne then? Was bound to happen after the amount of times you've watched it." Kurt shifted uncomfortably against the quilt, tapping the mug against his teeth. Blaine noted the anxious gesture with curiosity and concern. Kurt placed the mug on the floor and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "It's just… Well, it's just, a little too close to home at the moment."

"How do you mean?" Blaine asked warily. Kurt took a deep breath and spoke again "Look I don't want you to take this the wrong way, he's not forced me to do anything so don't panic. Sebastian's just more… _experienced_ than me and he's keen to move on to other um _activities_ but I'm just not quite there yet, but I mean maybe I should be, shouldn't I? After all I'm the only Cheerio left who could actually wear white to their wedding, even Becky…"

"You don't have to do anything Kurt!" Blaine finally snapped surprising Kurt who took his eyes away from the ceiling to focus on Blaine. They were both silent for a moment before Kurt continued, "I know but I don't want him to loose interest…"

"No buts, seriously Kurt. Don't ever feel like you have to do anything you're not ready for. Besides… no one could possibly loose interest in you, even if you kept them waiting forever…" There was a poignant irony in Blaine's words, after all his unwavering feelings for Kurt over the last decade was a testament to this very statement. Kurt smiled tentatively at Blaine and he was relieved to see the momentary anxiety dissolve from his limbs, relaxing back into usual self.

Blaine felt an odd sensation on his face and his vision suddenly went blurry. He realised his glasses had come apart in the middle where the tape had finally given way. "Well this tapes finally had it. It had a good…" Blaine stopped talking as he became aware of a blurry figure moving out of the foreground and into his limited line of vision. The blurred edges of Kurt were slowly coming into focus as they came to rest just a couple feet away from his face. He felt him reach into his lap to collect the halves of his glasses that had fallen there and Blaine's breath caught in his throat.

With his free hand Kurt drew a tentative line across his forehead, smoothing aside the almost dry curls that hung low on his forehead. "I know they burn you but you should wear your contacts more often. Your eyes are sort of…beautiful" Kurt said his voice low and saturated.

Kurt's sapphire eyes bore into Blaine's and even with his vision impaired he could still makes out the glinting blue facets. His friendship with Kurt had become a waiting game, always looking for the opportunity to finally confess his feeling. If ever there was a moment to expose himself to Kurt entirely this was it. But Blaine's courage faltered and all he could reply was a muffled, "…thanks."

Kurt traced his fingers one final time across Blaine's prickling skin before withdrawing them, moving to sit beside Blaine with his arm pressed against his. Blaine's body was rigid, the tension an illusion that might give the impression he had a more athletic built than he really did. The only exercise Blaine got came from dancing in Glee and lugging around his admittedly heavy book bag.

As they settled back into the movie Blaine didn't even bother to try and re-fix his glasses and Kurt didn't seem to notice, he'd disappeared back inside the movie the way Blaine would inside a book. Even if Blaine had possession of his new glasses (which he was still waiting for) he doubted he'd be able to see anything but the sapphire eyes that burned on his retinas. Instead he focussed on the music and dialogue until Kurt's head found it's way into the crook of his shoulder, nestling the soft hair against his neck. Then even those sounds couldn't be heard. They were drowned out by the pealing of his heart.

…..

"Are you ok Kurt?" Blaine asked, Kurt was uncharacteristically quiet and this scene never failed to leave Kurt weeping into a pillow or occasionally Blaine's shoulder. Blaine looked down surprised that he had failed to realise that Kurt had fallen asleep. Not just asleep but dead to the world, as dead as the body that hung limp in the arms of Ewan McGreggor on the screen.

Blaine carefully picked up the remote in his attempt not to jostle Kurt, although it was ridiculous he thought, Kurt was the heaviest sleeper he knew. He flicked the TV off and the room went dark, the only discernable light coming from the moon leaking through the half open curtains, casting faint silvery edges to otherwise invisible objects.

Kurt had turned slightly to his side and Blaine gazed down at his face, the cheek how pressed softly against his shoulder. He could just make out his features, (glad for once to be nearsighted) his jaw and cheekbones accentuated by the subtle balance of chiaroscuro lighting. He loved the way that his flickering eyelashes cast filigree feathered shadows across his face and watched as they danced like candlelight over the skin guarding his eyes. Blaine found himself longing to know what dreams were being projected beneath them.

His eyes wandered down to gaze at Kurt's lips, which were parted. The breath escaped in time to the gentle rising of his chest and blowing out in heady little intoxicating wisps that made Blaine's mouth water. With each soft breath his lower lip trembled, the movement making the traces of saliva sparkle in the darkness like the first stars to prick the sky at twilight.

Blaine was utterly mesmerized and he had no idea how long he'd been staring. Could Brittany finally be right about something? Was a kiss really all it would take to make Kurt wake up and see him?

But he couldn't just _kiss _him… could he?

He hovered above Kurt for a moment toying with idea in his mind but then caught himself. After what he'd said about Sebastian this evening, how could he even entertain such a notion?

With Kurt now in position to sleep, off Blaine's shoulder and propped up on a pillow he began to pull away, ready to give himself over to sleep, when a hand unexpectedly curled around his bicep. He froze in the darkness, tense and coiled. After a moment the silence broke and what barely registered as a murmur in Blaine's ear, Kurt whispered: "Kissumee…"

He'd _thought _Kurt was asleep, had he imagined those words? They'd bled together to form one word and maybe he'd said something else… but what? The hand still clug to his arm and Blaine was about to prise it away when once again and more clearly Kurt uttered the words: "Kiss me." Any resolve Blaine had melted away in an instant and he closed the gap between them in the length of a heartbeat.

Blaine's cupped Kurt's lower lip with his own as he pressed the top of his heart shaped lip into the parted space between Kurt's own. Relishing in the way that they fit together so perfectly, as if they'd been designed to be there all along, he paused. This moment had been building inside Blaine for so many years almost like a crescendo and he wanted to savour it for as long as possible.

Finally he dragged Kurt's tender lower lip a little deeper into his mouth until he could taste the damp flesh on his palette, delicious and sweet. He was elated when the gesture elicited a deep moan from Kurt's throat and the fingers that still coiled around his bicep dug deeper into the increasingly numb flesh. In fact his whole body was becoming numb, the only sensation he could feel was that of electrified nerves burrowing deep inside the crevasses of Kurt's lips like a flower taking root. For all he knew his body had melted away entirely.

Breaking away from the kiss was almost painful, he felt tethered to the place like it was his only source of oxygen and he gazed at the way the skin covering Kurt's eyes crinkled with what he hoped was the same kind of bittersweet pain. It made his heart race and his lips curled into a smile. Tracing a finger along Kurt's hairline he dipped back towards his face with the joy of a child taking a second cookie from the jar.

Just before his lips found their way home Kurt spoke again, "Sebastian..?" Blaine froze. He was so close that less than a millimetre of space hung between them but it might as well have been the distance of a galaxy.

Blaine rolled away from Kurt, the hand that had held Blaine's arm letting go with the movement. Tears began to soak the eyelashes that ringed the golden hazel eyes that only a while ago Kurt had been cruel enough to call beautiful. With a heavy realisation Blaine thought he hadn't broken the spell, the only thing he'd managed to break was his heart.

…

In the dark recesses of Kurt's subconscious a recently recurring dream replayed. He was gripping Sebastian's arm, legs wrapped around his waist as they sat on his bed in his dorm at Dalton. He'd never actually been inside his room, afraid to encourage the obvious desires Sebastian had for him, so the image was painted by his own imagination.

He asked him to kiss him twice and then he did, as always. The dream following the formula it did every time, he'd had it so many times that once he'd even woken up with a mouthful of pillow. But tonight the sense of deja vous had shifted; although things were exactly the same they felt disjointed like he was looking down a hallway full of funhouse mirrors.

The kiss was an ethereal and tangible thing that left a physical taste on his tongue, and charged the nerves to the point where they prickled like pins and needles. It had _never_ felt like this…

Sebastian broke away and for a long moment he couldn't decipher what was different about him. His body bore the same shape; long, confident and clad as always in the Dalton uniform, his hair still just as well styled as his own was the same dirty blonde as usual._ So what was different?_

_Sebastian..? _He spoke his name as a question as he realised the difference at last. The once glinting emerald eyes were now a smouldering liquid gold.

Kurt woke with a start and noted the sunlight slanting through the window. He rubbed his eyes and fought to keep them open. As he shifted on the bed he reminded himself not to wake Blaine who was a far lighter sleeper than himself but this gesture proved pointless as Blaine had vacated the bed. Although Blaine was gone the familiar scent of coffee and that elusive spice lingered, coupled with the new smell of ginger and lemongrass from the shampoo he'd given him only hours ago. He couldn't hear the sound of his shower so he padded down the stairs to see if he'd gone to make breakfast. But Kurt found he was nowhere in site.

At that point he also noticed his bag that he'd left by the coffee table was gone and saw a note folded like a tent on the little table, his name written in Blaine's careful cursive.

I started feeling really sick, don't worry it wasn't your cooking probably just that bug that's been going around. I didn't want you to get sick too so I went home, I don't think I'll be able to make it to your party. Sorry.

Blaine.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine:

Brittany held the picture in front of her smiling, she was especially proud of this one. Using three shades of blue on Blaine's bowtie had really made it pop off the page and she'd spent the longest time getting Kurt's hair just right. Fear at Kurt possibly ripping the picture to shreds if he thought she'd gotten even one hair out of place had lead her to already scrap three previous drafts. But it had been worth it; the picture was just right and now Brittany had the perfect gift to thank Blaine with for all his help studying with her. She was glad Lord Tubington had suggested it.

The cat in question was lying on his back at the end of Brittany's bed, unable to move after eating a small cauldron full to the brim with melted cheese. Brittany shimmied to the end of the bed to join him, lying on her back next to him; she held the picture over their heads like they were picking out images in the clouds. "What do you think Lord Tubbington? Will he like it?" an unnatural gurgling came from his stomach; Brittany took this as an affirmation and grinned.

Before she closed the book she flicked through her other artworks. Passing a half finished one of her dancing with Artiebot she settled on one of Lord Tubbington. He disliked this picture, he felt his eyebrows made him look menacing and like Kurt he could be such a diva about his appearance. Over his body she'd written: "_Lord Tubbington thinks you are Purrrfect and so do I_" Like the picture she'd drawn for Blaine she had made this one for Santana but…

A tinkling sound disturbed her and for a moment she looked concerned; _are the aliens back? _she wondered. But it was just her phone; she could see it vibrating on her dresser out of the corner of her eye. _Oh that's right, _she thought. Mercedes had changed the sound for her during practise yesterday but she'd have to get her to change it again, alien invasions are not laughing matter. Rolling to the edge of the bed she hopped off and went to pick it up and saw that Blaine's name still glowed on the screen as she unlocked the message:

_We can't study today Brittany. Sorry._

For a moment she looked blankly at the phone, staring at the words until the light disappeared and the words faded into darkness. After some time she tapped out a reply and then putting it down as she went to her wardrobe to pick out an outfit for Kurt's party.

…

Covers and blankets were safe. _I could live here till I die_ Blaine thought. And sure he'd have trouble when it came to procuring food and water but it was a small price to pay for the protection his cocoon afforded. Besides taking measures to prolong his life right now had taken a significant nosedive on his list of priorities. Right now blotting out the cruel world had taken precedence over everything. It was a: **bold**, _italicised_ and underlined priority.

Whilst his blanket cocoon was doing an exceptional job of blotting out his sight it could only muffle the sounds of the world, namely that of his phone which had rang twice and bleeped several messages. _Sure, now people want to know me, now that I've decided to take myself off the map. _Then of course there was the knocking… which became banging and eventually creaking as it opened.

"Blaine," Leroy called out loudly through the thick material. "Brittany's here. You need to come out of there." _What? _Blaine thought, he was sure he'd text her to let her know that their study session was off. It had been the last think he'd done before discarding the phone and burying himself alive. Curling deeper under the covers he refused to reply; if he pretended to not exist he was sure they'd eventually leave. Then he thought sadly _who's pretending…_

Before the door clicked shut he heard his father whisper, "We don't know what's happened. He hasn't come out all day. I hope you can get through to him Brittany." After the sound of his feet receded away the room was left silent. For a moment he thought that maybe she'd left with him, until he felt her climb onto the bed and curl up with her head rested on his blanket-covered hip. The action reminded him oddly of the way Bowtie liked to curl up on him.

Then the questions started:

"Blaine why are you hiding?"

"Are you playing a game?"

"Is this research?"

"Did you fall down the rabbit hole?"

"Have you forgotten how to wake up?"

"Is it you under there?"

"Are you Simba?"

"Did you crawl out of the TV and eat Blaine?"

"Are you going to eat me?"

"Is Kurt under there?"

At his name Blaine groaned and Brittany sat up, fidgeting animatedly on the bed.

"He is! Are you guys making gaybies?"

Finally he resigned himself to the fact that her questions and speculations were not going to stop until he revealed himself so knotting a hand in the blanket, he peeled the layer back over his head and peered through red-rimmed eyes that stung at the first touch of light he'd seen in hours. Brittany's fidgeting ceased as he appeared but he couldn't see her face without his glasses. Groping the nightstand with a clumsy hand he sought out his glasses that he'd hastened to reassemble before fleeing Kurt's house last night. When he looked up her expression was unreadable, like she was fitting together the pieces of a puzzle from several different boxes. "Brittany what are you doing here?" Blaine croaked.

"You said we couldn't study. I figured we were just going to do makeovers before the party. I left you a message," he cursed himself: first for not reading her message and second for not having learnt by now that you always had to be 100% specific with this girl. He did suppose though that it was oddly touching, she didn't just see him as her tutor, she really did see him as a friend.

Searching for a reply his lips twitched reflexively, but his capacity to form cohesive sentences had been severally compromised and he found himself squinting at Brittany over his glasses. In his haste to repair them he'd patched them crookedly so that when he peeked through them his line of vision was slightly out of balance, leaving him dizzy and a little queasy.

But she was patient and eventually he managed a response, "I-I know Brittany, I didn't see your, um your message. But I di-didn't just mean we couldn't study I meant… I'm just…. Look, I'm sorry but I-I, I'm not going to the party."

"Blaine you're being silly. Look I brought nail polish. I'm gonna paint dolphins on your –" she reached for her bag she'd left on the floor until a small olive skin hand wrapped around her slender wrist. Twisting back she looked down at his hand holding her and then moved to his face; he spoke again definitively, "No." Now she was really looking at him, her expression focussed but hopelessly confused, "But I don't understand."

Then a light flickered in the iris of her eyes, narrowing as she spoke again, "Blaine why are your eyes so red? Did something happen?" Finding her probing stare unnerving he rolled his body until he was lying on his side, his eyes fixated on the empty wall. "Blaine you have to talk to me. I can't read minds. I'm not a nun."

He was reluctant to speak but she wasn't going anywhere without an answer and he wouldn't risk her asking Kurt why he was so upset, he didn't want to make things worse than they already were. Although he couldn't imagine feeling much worse at this point, he'd ceased underestimating his capacity to discoverer new ways to sink lower.

"I-I took your advice… last night… at Kurt's…" he said at last. Waiting for her to realise what he meant thankfully didn't take as long as he thought it might but her response made him flinch, "That's great! Then why are you so sad?" Breaking contact with the wall he chanced a glance at her, finding optimism mixed into her bewilderment. _Why did he have to explain this? Wasn't it painfully obvious?_

Rolling back to the wall he bit the flesh of his lower lip, surprised that there was any feeling left in it at all. "Because he _obviously _didn't feel the same way. He doesn't want me – and who can blame him? I-I was a _fool_ to think a guy like him would ever- _ever, _look twice at a guy like… a guy like…"

But he couldn't finish the sentence; his eyes, barely healed wounds, began to bleed fresh trails of hot tears and he pressed his palms hard against his face willing them to stop. Still wrapped in the covers he felt Brittany move across him but unaware of what she was doing until she connected her body behind his spooning him tightly. Raw and venerable he ignored the humiliation he'd undoubtedly feel later after crying like a baby and just allowed himself to sob harder, be held tighter and take comfort in the pressure of her arms, which felt like they were the only things left holding him together.

Cheek resting in his curled hair; she sat silently until his whimpering began to ebb and his hands fell limply from his face. Quietly in his ear she spoke: "It wasn't supposed to be this way. That's not how the story goes. In the fairytale's the princess always wakes up when the prince kisses her. How can he…"

But she didn't get to finish her sentence, something snapped in Blaine who went rigid in her arms. Sitting bolt upright he glared at Brittany, his voice corrupted with misdirected anger as he spoke, "The only person who needs to wake up is you Brittany! The world isn't fairytales and happiness! God why are you so stupid?"

He clamped a hand over his mouth but it was too late, he saw the damage he'd done in her eyes before she'd even grabbed her bag. Already making it to the door before he'd even scrambled off the bed, (his legs tipsy from their lack of movement) he stumbled after her down the stairs calling to her just as she'd reached the front door. "Brittany I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Stopping but not turning she took a breath before responding in a restrained voice, "Maybe it's stupid to believe in fairytales Blaine... But I never thought I was stupid for believing in you." And with that she opened the door and left; the echo of its closing reverberated in Blaine, who if it were possible felt even more empty then before she came.

….

Blaine filled his forty-ninth silver foil star balloon using the helium gas tank sat on a bar stool in front of the one he was currently occupying. After Brittany had left he'd sat on his stairs, unable to move and this is where Leroy who'd found him had decided to take matters into his own hands. Leading Blaine to the bathroom he'd made him shower and then taken him and his sister for an early dinner at Breadstix. Blaine couldn't tell if he was eating soup or a steak.

Rachel was in suspiciously good spirits after having spent the last couple of weeks in mourning from her most recent break up with Finn. On the drive she had 'treated' Blaine and Leroy to a Medley of Celine Dion songs and had even complemented Blaine's bowtie. At the time he'd been considering if maybe she'd been paid off to be nice to Blaine but he found out later why.

After this excursion their dad had driven them to Scandals where Hiram was already busy setting up for Sandy Ryerson's _welcome back from rehab party_. Leroy had then left Blaine and Rachel to fill two hundred magenta and fifty star balloons while he went out back to file paperwork with Hiram. For the first seventy-three balloons Blaine had listened patiently as Rachel gave him her top ten tips for a successful win at sectionals, all the while thinking that he no longer had any desire to even perform the solo, (not that he'd had much to begin with). "And Blaine the number one tip for an award winning performance is…"

"Always make an entrance!" they'd both turned to find the owner of the voice - non other than Jesse St James, who it would appear was the reason for Rachel's good mood. Before they left together for Kurt and Finn's party she swiped two green bottles from behind the bar and hid them under her cape; a bottle of apple schnapps and a bottle of Absinth. For a split second she'd dropped the nice sister act and given him a daring look, sibling telepathy informing him that he'd be sorry if he even thought about ratting him out. She needn't have worried though, he was frankly just glad to finally be alone to wallow in his misery.

As Blaine released the star he watched as the ribbon laced lazily through his fingers, like the tail of a comet before settling flat against the ceiling. Gazing up at the cluster of stars he saw himself reflected back and in each surface, more distorted and grotesque than the last. In this moment he'd never felt as ugly inside as he did outside.

Watching the stars hover gently above him he was reminded of the ones that still to this day adorned his ceiling at home…

_After Kurt, had plastered the last star on Blaine's ceiling; having used his bookcase as a makeshift ladder, he'd closed his curtains, shut the door, then flicked the light off before coming to join Blaine who was lying on the carpet, his cast propped on a soft pillow. "There! Now you can make a wish every night. Even when you can't see the real stars." _

_Kurt stared admiringly at his handiwork whilst Blaine tried not to fixate on how close Kurt's hand lay next to his, he wanted nothing more than to hold it in his own. Turning to face Blaine with eyes that twinkled more than all of the real stars combined he asked, "How does the poem go again?" Pushing his glasses up his nose Blaine recited the little poem:_

"_Star Light Star bright,  
>The first star I see tonight.<br>I wish I may, I wish I might,  
>Have the wish I wish tonight."<em>

"I wish I could remember things the way you can," Kurt had said, not having taken his eyes off Blaine. Blaine had been very grateful for the darkness that had covered his blush, "Is that what you're going to wish for?"

Kurt stuck his little pink tongue out and turned back to the ceiling, "I can't tell you what I'm going to wish for or it won't come true silly," and then he'd recited the poem himself in his clear musical voice.

After a while in a timid voice Blaine had asked Kurt: "Will you tell me when it comes true?" Smiling and nodding he'd taken Blaine's hand and told him: "I promise." And with that gesture Kurt had granted the wish Blaine had just been making.

Blaine was just fitting the last balloon into the nozzle of the tank when boots started to echo off the wooden floors; getting louder as they came closer to the bar. He called over the noise of the balloon filling with helium: "There's a private party tonight, unless you're one of the strippers…" Blaine said as he pulled his head up, he blanched when he recognized the owner.

"I might have a couple of jobs. But 'stripper' isn't-" Jeremiah was cut off by the sound of Blaine's last balloon exploding in his hand. They both jumped as bits of foil rained down like silver snow, landing on Blaine's head and shoulders. Jeremiah laughed heartily while Blaine's cheeks flooded to match the two hundred magenta balloons, which thanks to his hard work were now strewn everywhere. "I didn't mean, I mean, I don't think you're…" Blaine spluttered anxiously, but Jeremiah held up a hand still smiling but effectively cutting him off. "I'm just teasing. Don't worry." Then he bent his head low and spoke again in a playfully dark voice, "You know, we really need to stop running into each other at bars. People will think I'm trying to coerce you."

Blaine attempted a smile, he could remember the mechanics of it but couldn't quite make it reach his eyes. Jeremiah seemed to sense it, his expression somewhat probing, "My family runs this place, I don't make a habit of sneaking into bars… if that's what you're thinking." Jeremiah dropped his canvas bag on the bar leaning against an elbow, "It's not what I was thinking at all." As Blaine collected the fragments of balloon from the floor he missed the way Jeremiah's eyes lingered over him.

"So I had kind of a rough day," he continued as Blaine stood up, depositing the pretty mess on the bar, "I Pulled the early shift, got yelled at by a customer and then by my boss. To top it off my favourite barista was not even there to make my drink," Blaine actually found himself smiling at that point. Jeremiah acknowledged it with one of his own and continued "I had to settle for _Puck- _he actually touched my muffin with his hands. I threw it in the trash as I left."

"Wise move, if even 1% of his stories are true I wouldn't touch his hand even if they gave him _the full silkwood_," Jeremiah looked confused but amused and laughed, making his halo of curls bounce in the dim light. Blaine attempted a smile again but it faltered and he tried to hide it by scooping the mess up and walking it over to the trash.

As Blaine returned Jeremiah began chatting again: "So I was planning to stop in at my favourite bar, maybe soothe the pain with a Cosmo, unload my woes on some unsuspecting barman… but it kind of looks like you might need it more than me." One second Blaine was blinking curiously at Jeremiah who was looking at him with concern, then he was watching him baulk over the bar and landing with ease on the other side.

"You can't just –" but he was cut off when asked in a single mouthful, "Whatllitbe?" Glancing around the room, he looked for a sign of his dads; they must still be filling out paperwork or something. Casting his eyes back to the man with the curly halo of golden locks, and an honest caring smile he sighed.

"Surprise me."

Jeremiah it turned out had been in the booze trade for some time. Between twirling the cocktail shaker on his fingertips and juggling it over his head and under his leg, he told Blaine he'd paid half his rent in college on tips only he'd earned as a cocktail maker in club in the city.

Of course the best trick a real barman possessed was the ability to coax the worries out of the paying customer, barmen were definitely the cheapest therapists. And while Blaine marvelled at Jeremiah's skill in preparation, draining the delicious virgin Mojito he'd made him, he found himself telling him the whole story from the day he'd met Kurt right up to the fight he'd just had with Brittany.

Jeremiah took the glass, now only containing ice and mint pulp and threw the contents in the little sink, washing the glass under a tap. As he leaned back against the fridge polishing the glass with a tea towel he studied the boy hard and Blaine felt oddly vulnerable under his stare. "I think you should go to the party," he said finally, placing the clean glass on the counter, the sound punctuating the end of his sentence.

Of all the responses Blaine had expected from his heartfelt monologue, he hadn't anticipated that. "That's what you got from that story?" Blaine asked incredulously watching Jeremiah's expression. It stayed composed with no hint of mockery. "What I got from that was that you have a seriously warped sense of self worth. You need to show Kurt – hell, you need to show _everyone _what they're missing!"

"They're not missing anything," Blaine muttered hanging his head. "Well you certainly are… Besides I think you need patch things up with your friend Brittany before it's too late. It's hard to find people in life who have that kind of faith in you," Jeremiah countered drawing his mouth in a line.

Flicking Blaine's bowtie he began again, "This… this is all just surface stuff… and that's easily rectifiable." At the last part something wicked glinted in Jeremiah's eyes and he grabbed his bag off the counter, walking out from behind the bar and towards Blaine, he grabbed his hand and started pulling him to the door.

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked stumbling over his feet.

"We've got a couple of stops to make first but then my fair _Blainerella…_ you shallgo to the ball!"

…

After reading Blaine's hastily written message Kurt had tried to call him. However after ringing for an unprecedented length of time to the end it eventually went to voicemail. He'd never realised how long Blaine's phone was set to ring, he was used to him answering pretty sharply. He'd hadn't left a message choosing instead to tap out a quick text:

Hope u feel better soon. Let me know ur ok x

With no one to help him set up he'd been a tornado of activity, cleaning, hanging lights, assembling a drinks bar and hiding anything breakable or of any value in a cupboard in the basement. It put him behind schedule but Finn would be home soon… well he hoped so.

Around three he'd tried phoning Blaine again and still there was no reply, this time however he did leave a message: "Hey Blaine, just checking in. Wanted to make sure you're ok… just give me a call or text. Let me know you're OK… ok, well um talk to you later I guess. Bye. Oh it's Kurt! But you're smart you probably figured that out… ok bye… again." Kurt felt flustered at leaving such a poorly articulated message; he was the poster child of for poise and composition, after all.

By seven he was more or less satisfied with the set up; the living room served as the main social area where Finn would be presiding, taking full responsibility if any furniture or appliances Kurt could not hide were damaged. This lead down the hallway to their kitchen where the bulk of the drinking would occur, tiled floors were a lot easier to clean spills from than carpeting. He'd even set up a pretty respectable bar on the table where they ate most of their family meals at, using Christmas fairy lights to make the bottles and cups pop. Not that the student body of McKinley needed lights to guide them to booze, teenagers had a sixth sense when it came to finding alcohol.

When Finn finally returned at 7:30 Kurt made his exit to get ready for the party; Finn would have to attend to first, second and _most likely _third wave of guests, being late to our own party was a small price to pay for perfection and as a cheerio he had his image to maintain. The only preparation Finn required was to pluck a fresh t-shirt from the wash basket and for good measure roll a stick of deodorant under his arms.

While sat at his vanity mirror wearing a vanilla and loganberry facemask he typed out another message to Blaine:

Can pores absorb calories? Hope ur feeling better – let me know K x

By the time he'd washed the mask carefully off his skin he was concerned and admittedly a little annoyed to not have received a reply. How sick was he that he couldn't send a quick reply? As he finished getting ready over the next hour he sent another three messages:

You're missing out on 1 classy party, Finn ACTUALLY used deodorant – can you believe it? And also 1 more thing hmmm what was it…oh yes! R U OK? K xBlaine I'm worried, text back – K x

Kurt pondered calling Hiram and Leroy but then remembered it was a Saturday night, they'd most likely be at work by now, they were lucky to have children like Blaine and Rachel, any other self respecting student would take full advantage of that situation. He was about to call anyway and see if Blaine might pick up the landline when his phone lit up in his hand and he jumped at it with the eagerness of a freshman. But it was only a text from Sebastian:

I've got a surprise 4 u ;-)

Rolling his eyes he put the phone back down on the dresser as he fussed with the collar of his shirt. Sebastian had started off as the perfect first boyfriend; shallow as it sounded he ticked all the official boxes for a first rate high school romantic interest: _attractive, popular, athletic…_ but lately Kurt had been noticing that in between their (admittedly hot) make out sessions, they were finding scarce amounts of things to talk about. In fact the biggest thing they had in common was their narcissism, which of course did not help make for particularly equal or riveting conversation.

It was shameful to admit to himself that he was kind of glad Sebastian was in New York this weekend and he wouldn't have to listen to any more commentaries on past Lacrosse games or what other real-estate his family was planning to invest in. _Should he be worried if he was glad to not have his boyfriend around?_ he thought. This was his first real boyfriend so he didn't have any real experience to compare it to and as much advice as the rest of the Cheerio's had to offer based on their many _many _past experiences it just wasn't the same. And of course he couldn't ask Blaine; he hadn't even kissed a boy yet…

A prickling sensation gently thrummed on the surface of his lower lip, he'd felt it all morning and while oddly pleasant it had sort of worried him. His over active imagination kept thinking the worst possibilities but of course when you loose your mother and then almost your father in such a short space of time, you can't help but be a little sensitive about odd sensations in your body.

"Kurt – Dude over half of McKinley are already here, are you coming down any time soon?" Kurt grimaced as a stubborn lock of hair refused to settle into the correct position. "Did the Venetians pester Da Vinci when he was working on a masterpiece?" Kurt yelled wryly. There was a long pause before Finn spoke again, decidedly more confused this time. "What's steak got to do with anything? I thought you didn't eat red meat?"

_Philistine_ he thought as he sprayed the stubborn lock with a lethal dose of hairspray. "Don't worry I'm just coming!" He took one final look in the mirror at his outfit: a white dress shirt open at the throat to expose the threaded Gucci neck scarf, coupled with a doubled breasted black knit cardigan and the piece de resistance; calf high black boots over a sinfully tight pair of horizontally striped black and white skinny jeans. It was a good thing Sebastian was not here because there was no way that anyone with the official rights to touch Kurt would be able to resist keeping their hands off him tonight!

Kurt was just strutting down the stairs when to his chagrin he realised that not a single person was paying the slightest bit of attention. _Well that's gratitude for you! _It would be a long time before he'd be throwing the ungrateful ingrates of Lima Ohio another swaray!

Midway down the stairs he craned his neck to try and make out what everyone was whispering about and in some cases openly stare and point at. Attention seemed to be focussed in front of Mercedes who had her back to him, effectively blocking his view of whatever it was going on. He could hear her loud enthusiastic voice even over the commotion of music and chatter as she said: "Boy who unwrapped your bowtie and found the gift of gorgeous!"

Then as if by some feat of supernatural force, the cluster of people who blocked his view shifted to reveal Blaine.

Kurt's jaw dropped.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten:**

Jeremiah and Blaine were only a couple of streets away from Kurt and Finn's house. Blaine's chest was constricting tightly under the unfamiliar feeling cotton of his shirt. "Tell me again why you think this is such a good idea?" Blaine asked, body rigid and staring straight ahead. Jeremiah took his hand off the steering wheel for a moment so he could reach over and squeeze a hand resting on Blaine's knee, "It's going to be _fine._"

It took a while for Blaine to register the calming heat of the larger hand covering his own. For a moment he broke contact with the blurring suburban landscape to look down at their entwined hands.

_Jeremiah had pulled Blaine by the hand in such a hurry he'd barely had enough time to explain to his fathers where he was going, keeping vague on the who and where, certain they'd refuse to let him leave. But they didn't ask any questions; in fact they waved him off with smiles and $50 note casually slipped into his hand. He guessed they were just relieved to see the shift in his mood._

_After driving for around fifteen minutes they had pulled up outside the mall, much to Blaine's confusion. "Everything's closed. Unless we're foregoing this ordeal and are just gonna see a movie-" Blaine asked, the timid hope in his voice cut off by the slamming of Jeremiah's door._

_Blaine had barely managed to unclip his seatbelt when his own door was wrenched open, the cool October air hitting his flushed face like a slap. "Just follow me," Jeremiah said with cool authority, latching onto Blaine's hand once more before propelling him out of the car and towards the back service entrance of the mall._

_Inside the building Blaine's sense of unease only grew. Jeremiah had left him standing alone in the middle of a large dark room, promising to return in, "Just one minute." As his footsteps had faded away Blaine fidgeted agitatedly on the spot hugging his arms against his chest. _

_Assuaging his nerves he'd counted in his head to sixty before calling his name softly… _wait were those_…? he asked himself as he turned on the spot. Even in the darkness he could make out the bodies… the _decapitated_ bodies and Blaine had been close to screaming and running for his life._ Seriously who just goes off with an older guy he barely knows? _Hadn't Kurt made him watch enough late night horror movies (although granted he hadn't seen too much, choosing to hide his eyes behind pillows) to know he was about to be…?_

_Then the world had flooded with light and Jeremiah had emerged behind the counter of the Lima Mall Gap, grinning broadly._

After Jeremiah's hand retreated Blaine found himself fidgeting, pulling at the leather bracelets encircling his wrists until the skin underneath tingled and turned white. Working upwards he rubbed at the exposed tan skin of his forearms, further towards his elbows where he fiddled with the bunched fabric there, feeling the urge to pull it down and cover his naked skin. A gentle but chastising hand slapped it away, "Non of that! It's not just about having the right clothes Blaine it's about wearing them properly as well… And you know I don't just mean on your body."

After pulling Blaine around the empty store, his weak arms pilled high with various coloured fabrics he'd been pulled into a changing room to try on outfit after outfit. Each ensemble was met by a furrowed brow from Jeremiah, followed by a shake of the head and a clipped, "Next."

Before Jeremiah handed over the last one from the pile he appraised Blaine's hunched form leaning tired and dejected against the wall, still clad in black skinny jeans and a maroon sweater that had just been vetoed. "Look this isn't working Blaine, you're not- OK."

He spun him around so that he was standing behind him, their images reflected in the three way mirrors. " You're the one holding the clothes up, not the other way around. Stand up straight!" He pulled Blaine's shoulders back and spun him back around to face him. "Blaine, confidence is the best accessory," he said handing him the final outfit and giving him a poignant look, "it goes with everything."

As Blaine stood in the empty cubicle he sighed, he didn't know how to **be** confident. But then again he thought; he did know a little something about acting. After all, you had to when you'd secretly pined for boy who was your best friend for over ten years.

With this in mind he resisted the urge to slouch as he slid his legs into the jeans and he broadened his shoulders as he pulled on the shirt. Finally he arched his chin whilst he relaxed the muscles in his face into calm assurance; burying his innate feelings of insecurity that surrounded him like a grey aura, pretending for a moment he could be something more than what he thought he was.

It was quiet for a long time before Jeremiah knocked, "Can I come in?" Blaine must have said something in the affirmative because the door clicked open slowly. Blaine stood sculpture still facing the mirror, not daring to move.

Jeremiah didn't say anything for a while and Blaine began to worry he'd gotten it wrong, wasted all the time he'd invested in him when hands suddenly clamped either side of his arms and he laughed, "Now that's what I'm talking about!" Blaine smiled bashfully as hands ghosted over him, rolling up the sleeves, twitching the collar and then prodding gently at the shell of Blaine's hair, "Now we just have to fix this little situation… Oh god please tell me you own a pair of contacts…"

Blaine was surprised at how little the contacts actually rubbed his eyes now; he'd remembered them being a lot worse the last time he'd worn them. This coupled with the amount of time it took to put the damn things in led him to rarely use them. Besides he liked the way his glasses hid his face, a realisation he was now making when he found himself trying to push up air. He felt exposed.

As they pulled to a stop as close to Kurt's house as possible (the usual empty spaces already filled and double parked,) Blaine's hair bounced lightly against his head. It startled him like they were spider legs instead of his own now tame but loose curls.

After leaving the mall Jeremiah had driven to Blaine's house to a.) retrieve his contacts, b.) pick up something for Brittany and c.) fix his hair. It had been surprisingly easy to fix his wild curls, Jeremiah's secret being an expensive bottle of product he swore he never left the house without, evidently so when he'd pulled it out of his glove compartment.

"Ready?" he asked, turning to Blaine.

He took a deep breath as he replied, "As I'll ever be."

…..

Inside Kurt's house Sugar blocked their entrance, wearing a jacket that looks like it was skinned right off the back of Sulley and then dyed pink, over a tight, orange, leopard, printed mini dress. In her hands she held a silver tray littered with tall shot glasses, half empty with sticky fingerprints and half filled with a toxic looking green liquid. "I don't know _who _you are but I'd be happy to change that status," she said in her nasally tone, thrusting the tray at them. Jeremiah demurely declined, "Designated driver, thanks anyway honey."

"It's _Sugar_, but that's cool you can totes call me what you like babe. Here," she thrust the tray at Blaine, "Your compact lil cutie pie's gotta take a shot before you're allowed _in_."

"It's Blaine Sugar," he said frowning as Jeremiah took a shot and placed it in his hands, wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming smell of the neon coloured liquid. "You're not Blaine. Blaine's looks like one of those weird lil ventriloquists' dolls and he always wears a bowtie, you know, the kind that makes you look like a serial killer with some kind of clown fetish. Oh hey Sandy!" forgetting their presence she turned on the spot to face the new comer.

Blaine frowned heavily at Jeremiah who was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. Eventually he sighed, "Bottoms up?" Blaine asked before tossing the glass back, grimacing at the bitter liquid that tasted just as bad if not worse than it smelt. A heavy hand slapped him on the back almost making him choke as a lewd voice even more repugnant than the drink invaded his ear. "Dude not in front of the children! But gotta say," he said patting him delightedly on the ass, "I _always _guessed!"

Blaine moved out of the way of his groping hands and shot him an indignant look, arms crossed over his chest, "_Hello Puck." _Puck circled around him, shifting under the weight of a crate of beer hooked under his other arm. He raked his eyes up and down before whistling low, "Say lookie here, ain't we all gussied up!"

A dirty little smile crept into his lips as he learned in close enough to Blaine's ear to make him flinch. "Oh right! Of course! You're totally planning on nailing - sorry my bad _getting _nailed by K-" Blaine grabbed one of Sugars shots and thrust it at his mouth, effectively silencing him. Surprised but with obviously practised skill he knocked his head back, drinking it down without spilling, his expression never wavering.

"_Refreshing_. Now, look Blaine, if you got all dressed up for me, I'm gonna have to stop you right there. No amount of liquor's _ever _gonna get me to Brokeback your mountain." Blaine shot Jeremiah an embarrassed look and for the first time Puck realised he was standing there, "Say ain't you the dude who comes in every week to perv on my little Blainey?" Jeremiah stopped smirking as the colour in his face drained a little, Blaine had had enough. "Christ Puck, isn't there some hole you can go crawl back into?"

"Well ladies," he said raising the crate over his head as he walked backwards towards a group of dancing Cheerio's, "That's the plan!" After thrusting the air with his hips in their direction he turned to the group and was swallowed up. Blaine shuddered, feeling the need to curl into a ball and sit under a shower for the rest of the year.

"So he's always…?" Jeremiah asked, his voice a little chocked.

"_Pretty_ much," Blaine answered, turning back and shrugging.

Making their way inside it was hard not to notice the stir his new look was causing; high school students weren't exactly subtle after all. Fingers pointed, voices whispered and eyes stared but their faces barely registered to Blaine as he moved through the throng towards the bottom of the stairs where Mercedes appeared. Hands flying to her cheeks, she spoke in a high, giddy voice, "Boy who unwrapped your bowtie and found the gift of gorgeous?"

As he smiled coyly at her he felt a wild shiver run up his spine, spreading across his skin until the surface of his skin hummed with a buzz like electricity. As the crowd parted he knew why instantly. Halfway up the stairs stood Kurt, staring down at him.

….

Kurt could see why his entrance hadn't garnered the response he'd anticipated. Everyone was too busy ogling… _Blaine? _His mind couldn't quite wrap the name around the boy bellow, standing sideways as he smiled radiantly at Mercedes.

It wasn't that he was taller; standing next to Mercedes that was obvious but he looked… _stronger _somehow_. When had those stumpy legs that could barely reach the middle shelf in their school library, filled out so well?_ he wondered. It must be something to do with the way the dark fabric of his jeans clung to him wrapping tightly up his frame, higher and higher until they reached his… _oh sweet Jesus…_

_Ok when did Blaine get an ass? _Kurt racked his memory picturing Blaine sitting at his desk, leaning against his locker, he couldn't locate a moment he'd ever noticed it. As Blaine turned pink flooded Kurt's face as he realised he hadn't torn his eyes away from his ass. So he travelled higher taking in his torso clad in a charcoal grey shirt over a dusty purple t-shirt.

Blaine's usual fashion colour pallet was pretty much in the Rainbow Brite territory. It had the odd effect of washing him out until you didn't so much notice him as you did the clothes. However the muted tone of this shirt had the opposite effect; it made the olive skin glow dark and rich like coffee, everywhere it was exposed. His hands, his arms, his throat... Wait were those chest hairs curling over the top of the t-shirt? When had those grown in? With the constant parade of bowties threaded tightly around his neck he'd not had the chance to witness their arrival. But then again why would he be looking? he chastised himself.

Blaine finally locked eyes on Kurt and he felt the full force of his liquid gold eyes no longer hidden behind glasses. He thought back to the day he'd secretly watched Blaine sing in the choir room and he'd gotten his first real look at them. They'd haunted him for hours afterwards and he'd had no idea why but as he stared back at them he felt the same surge of feeling coil low in his stomach.

Blaine suddenly turned to look at a man standing next to him and whispered something in his ear. Kurt had never seen him before in his life and when he saw the man squeeze Blaine's hand his jaw dropped.

…..

"Is that him?" Jeremiah asked right in Blaine's ear startling him. He turned to look at him and whispered, "Yes." There must have been fear or something in his eyes because he took Blaine's hand for the tinniest moment and squeezed it.

When Blaine looked back around Kurt was suddenly approaching poised in his descent: "Blaine, I –" his foot missed the last step and he fell through the air. Blaine's arms launched in front of him, catching Kurt, as the momentum twisted him around, arching his body under Blaine, until he was bare inches from his face.

As they clung to each other Kurt stared up searching Blaine's eyes with his own wide unblinking ones. Blaine felt paralysed, as he became overwhelmed by the raw memories of their kiss in the dead of night. The feel of his fingers locked around his arm, the smell of his honeyed breath teasing the fine hairs on his face, the sound of -

"Oh. My. God. Blaine, people are _literally _swooning – you look that good!" Mercedes said hollering, breaking the tension. Kurt's shocked face flooded with red as he scrambled to right himself, disengaging himself from Blaine's arms, he shot a glare at Mercedes.

"Well I-I guess I'm just shocked, I mean here I was thinking you were at deaths door because well, you'd have to be to miss one of my parties and then here you turn up looking um looking…" Kurt trailed off flustered as his hand twisted in the air. Blaine pulled at the hem of his shirt nervously as he noted the way Kurt's voice seemed a little higher than usual and kind of breathless as well. But then again he realised he had practically just fallen down the stairs. Blaine was about to explain everything when Kurt whipped round to face Jeremiah.

"_So _you've brought a… friend. Hello," Kurt thrust a crooked hand at Jeremiah almost glaring; a cool smile under colder eyes. Blaine looked dazedly between the two as Kurt shook his hand primly, "I'm _Kurt _of course. And _you_ are?" Jeremiah quirked his lips into a smirk as Blaine answered for him. "This- this is Jeremiah. He's a um friend of mine." As he pulled his hand away Kurt replied curtly, "Ch_ar_med," all emphasis on the _ar. _

"Well boys, I hope you have a great time but my hosting duties really are required. _Mercedes_," he locked a possessive arm through her own as he dragged her away. "See you later guys!" she added with a wave of her free hand before being jerked back in the direction of the kitchen.

Blaine followed the retreating figures with his eyes as they were consumed by the crowd. "So yeah, um that was… that was Kurt," Blaine said a little breathlessly, his eyes still trained on the last point he saw him disappear from.

"Riiight, and is he um always…?" Jeremiah asked with a quirk of his lips, seeming fairly amused by the encounter.

"No not really… he was acting sort of… odd," Blaine replied dragging his eyes away.

A hand snaked around his waist, giving him a small squeeze, "Well for what it's worth you did good. Now, you wanna go find Brittany?"

"Yeah..." he answered. As they walked into the living room, Blaine gave one final look over his shoulder towards the crowded kitchen entryway.

…

When he asked a random girl in the living room where Brittany was she pawed at his chest like a cat, his skin crawling and his face flooding red. But she was promptly pulled off by her freckle-faced boyfriend who pointed Blaine in the direction of the basement. It figured of course, at the few parties he'd attended, the Glee Club and the other socially stunted kids of McKinley had always gravitated to lower ground, basements mostly and once even a bomb shelter. Jeremiah let him go alone to talk to Brittany and left in the general direction of the kitchen, looking for the bar to practise his cocktail skills.

As Blaine descended the stairs it was the usual chaos. Tina and Mike were staggering around the centre of the room macking sloppily. Artie and Sam were attempting to teach girls on his synchronized swim team how to play the guitar. Rachel was arguing loudly with Finn who looked about ready to punch Jesse's face in, while Jacob Ben Israel watched writing furiously in his notebook.

And there sat Brittany on top of a freezer in the adjacent utility room, her head of golden curls resting softly on Santana's shoulder. At the sound of Blaine's entrance Santana snapped her head up like she'd been waiting got him. Jumping off her perch she practically ran at Blaine, raising her hands and yelling, "¿Qué es lo que hiciste? Te arrancaré la piel para una piñata y tendremos una fiesta sobre tu tumba! Bebé de estilo de Lima Heights! Tu, Tu..."

Blaine did not take Spanish (opting to take French with Kurt) so the only words he could pick out from her tirade were _piñata _and _Lima Heights_, but from the way she was now shoving him roughly against a wall he knew very well she was not planning to throw him a party, unless it was for his funeral.

The commotion seemed to ignite the interest of the Glee club and everyone began to rush over including Finn who had to let go of the fistful of Jesse's shirt that he'd currently been holding. As he restrained Santana like she was a screaming infant Blaine was pretty sure that she was attempting to kick both of them right in the plums. In fact she very nearly succeeded when Brittany stepped in front of her facing Blaine.

"What are you doing here Blaine? You said you weren't coming to the party," her voice had deviated a little from its usual monotone; it had a slight edge of anger but failed to hide the sadness in her eyes. "Well I guess I've lied to you three times now then," he said taking a tentative step from the wall. Santana who'd calmed down when Brittany appeared gave a savage thrash in Finn's arms so he stopped.

The irritation in Brittany's voice melted into confusion, "What did you lie about? Green M&M's really are a vegetable?" Blaine sighed, "Um no, they're not um, but ok so _one: _I told you I wasn't coming to the party and I did," he paused counting the things off his fingers. "_Two:_ I-I called you stupid –"

"That's not a lie," she cut in, the sadness in her eyes overwhelming now. The usual brightness was tarnished as she looked down at her shoes. "It **is** Britt and it's the worst kind of lie, it was hateful and I can't tell you how sorry I am for saying it." _Screw the wrath of Santana_ he thought taking a step forward so he could touch her shoulder. Breaking the gaze with her feet she looked up, waiting for him to continue. Finally she asked, "What's the third lie?"

Taking his hand off her shoulder he reached into his back pocket extracting a pen and holding it up to Brittany. "Do you know what this is?" Taking the pen carefully out of his hands she held it, almost cradling it like a baby, "Well yeah it's the magic pen. You need to put it away so its safe or-"

"It's not, magic. I lied." Confused she continued to hold it carefully in her hands but scrunched up her eyes and nose, like the way she did when they studied together. "Of course it is. I wouldn't have gotten the right answers I did without it."

"That's the thing Britt, the pen isn't magic _but you are._ And I-I know you've stopped believing in me and I deserve that but I swear it's the truth when I tell you that I believe in you." The room fell silent, only the muffled sounds of feet and music could be heard above them and Blaine continued to watch as Brittany processed the information.

Then she dropped the pen on the floor as she wrapped her arms tightly around him and Blaine was overwhelmed with relief. Everyone around them was clapping and if he'd looked up he'd have been surprised to see tears in Santana's eyes, which were quickly brushed away.

"I never stopped believing you Blaine," Brittany said holding him tighter, "That's another lie. You have to stop lying or your nose is going to poke out people eyes like Rachel's does." Blaine shook with laughter hoping his sister hadn't heard the comment; he'd had enough drama for one day, "O-Ok Britt."

Breaking the hug she took a better look at him, raking her eyes slowly from his feet to his head, "Why are you dressed so weird?" He laughed, raking a hand through the back of his curls, "It's a long story Britt."

"Like a fairytale?" she asked, cocking her head hopefully. Blaine considered this for a moment and despite everything that had happened he thought that maybe it was just a little bit.

…

Upstairs Kurt was perched on his kitchen counter swigging from a near empty bottle of wine, swaying ever so slightly on the spot as he stared with hawk like concentration at Jeremiah's back, muttering under his breath. A gaggle of juniors were watching in awe as Jeremiah juggled shot glasses.

Mercedes walked over carrying a complicated looking cocktail, staring at the liquid like it was a lava lamp. "Look look Kurt! _Jeremiah _made me a _Tequila_ Sunrise! Look it's all reeeeeeeed at the bottom and Kurt… Kurt? KURT!" He jumped breaking his stare with Jeremiah and almost toppled off the edge of the counter, catching himself and his bottle at the last moment. "_What '_Cedes_?" _he asked irritated.

"Look at my drink Kurt, its _amaaaaaaazing!"_ she crooned wobbling a little herself; this obviously wasn't her first cocktail of the night. "Unless it's mixed with the sweat of Taylor Lautner's Abs I highly doubt it," Kurt sniped taking another swig from his bottle.

Mercedes appraised Kurt critically over the rim of her glass as he continued to stare at Jeremiah. Pulling her lips away from the glass she put the drink on the counter and gave him a little shove. "Kurt what's your deal? I've not seen the bitch face since Santana was made head cheerleader."

Kurt let out an exasperated breath as he pointed at Jeremiah's back with his bottle, "What's he even doing here? Blaine's never even _mentioned_ him before. And and now he thinks he can just come to _my _party and take away _my _guests attention with his little flippdy flippy whatever drink making. And he looks like he's _forty _what's he even doing with a high schooler-_school_ kids anyway and _and… urgh _why are you laughing?"

Mercedes was shaking violently, desperately trying to hold in her giggles. Kurt was livid as he jumped lithely off the counter, stumbling a little in spite of himself, "Well I guess I know who I should be directing my 'bitch face' at _now_," he said voice venomous. "Kurt…I… Oh Kurt I'm sorry its just that its sooo… Oh baby, you're so _jealous!_ It's _adorable_!"

"Jealous? _Jealous!_ What do I _possibly_ have to be jealous of?" He spat, spinning on his small heels, "You're drunker than I thought. You need _medical_ attention."

"Oh please, you can't hide it from mama 'Cedes, she knows _all," _she said waggling a finger at him as he downed the last of the bottle and strutted away. " Hey, where are you going?_" _she asked grabbing her drink, which spilt in her haste to follow him.

"Going to go get you my straight jacket before you hurt yourself," he said then turned around and tapped her lightly on the nose with the empty bottle. "But first we're going to have some fun before the men in white jackets come to get you."

…..

The Glee Club eventually dispersed upstairs to various corners of the house. Brittany and Santana were currently dancing with the other cheerio's in their underwear, hearts and stars painted in lipstick across their bodies. Tina and Mike had moved their make out session to the coach next to Artie who failed to notice as Sugar sampled the last of her shots sprawled across his lap. Rachel had left with Jesse not long after Blaine and Brittany's reconciliation, avoiding any more drama with Finn who was now the acting bouncer throwing out football players mimicking Jeremiah's juggling with plants.

Blaine began searching for Jeremiah, guilty that he'd left him alone for so long at a party where the only person he knew apart from himself was _Puck. _After surveying the downstairs he finally decided to trek upstairs and see if he was in line for the bathroom or something.

As he made his way up he skirted around couples making out against the walls, knocking down pictures hanging on the walls until they were either hanging crooked or broken on the floor. Blaine picked them up as he ascended, leaving them on the windowsill at the top of the stairs. He wasn't waiting outside the bathroom but he heard multiple voices yelling from Kurt's bedroom as he crossed the landing to investigate.

As he strode through the door a ring of people sat on the floor burst out laughing. Embarrassed he flushed but he didn't understand why they were laughing until he caught sight of the empty bottle of wine lying on the carpet, pointed at him like a compass as Kurt hovered over it on all fours, his expression dumbfounded.

Blaine's stomach twisted violently in his body as he felt the overwhelming desire to vomit, "Just looking for my um friend, I should, I should just go now," Blaine said turning around. As his hand reached for the knob he was suddenly thrust backwards by several hands pulling him into the centre of the circle. Mercedes hooted with laughter as she slurred, "Uh uh no no no, you know the rules Blaaaaaine, you gotta kiss Kurt. You can find _Jeremiah _after!"

At the mention of his name Kurt seemed to snap his wondrous eyes twisting into something primal. Pulling him by his wrists until Blaine's body was a right angle, his legs flat against the carpeted floor he held his shoulders for support and sunk a knee either side of Blaine's hips, effectively locking him in place.

"She's riiight Blaine. You. Are. _Mine_," he said cupping Blaine's face between the palms of his hands. Everyone around them began to chant _kiss kiss kiss kiss _the tempo matching the hard and heavy thrumming of Blaine's heart concealed low under thin veils of fabric and flesh_._ Fingers snaked their way into Blaine's curls for an inescapably grasp before he was wrenched up, hard and fast against Kurt's mouth.

Every breath in Blaine's body was knocked out of him at once, as Kurt ground down relentlessly against him with an abrasive force not far removed from violence. Between the shock and lack of air Blaine tried hard to breath through his nose but it wasn't enough and his mouth tore open in his desperation for air.

Kurt exploited the opportunity and dragged his mouth down locating Blaine's lower lip. Between his own teeth and lips he sucked the hot slippery flesh; harder still when Blaine whimpered beneath him, until it throbbed like a pulse in his mouth. Releasing the pressure he lapped at the swollen surface with languid flicks of his tongue. Blaine moaned, drunk off the taste of crisp wine laced with melted honey.

Weightless and liquid Blaine found his hands tentatively locking onto Kurt's lissom waist, anchoring him to spot for fear he might float away. Kurt responded by tangling his fingers deeper into his hair and pressing him backwards until Blaine's back curved like a taut bow.

Somewhere along the way the frantic movement of Kurt's lips had slowed down from their dizzying pace. Now he was working with the care of an artist, kneading the flesh like clay at his fingertips and brushing the skin like paint against a canvas until unidentifiable colours exploded behind Blaine's trembling eyes.

When Kurt finally broke away, he hovered in limbo for a second over the short distance between their faces; his fluttering breath ghosting the dewy surface of Blaine's swollen lips, which shook under the delicate pressure. He leaned in for one last short and soft kiss; just a soft graze on the pliant surface before pulling away entirely.

"_Kurt," _Blaine spoke hoarsely, unable to open his eyes.

"…Sebastian…"

No… No no no no no no no no noThis. Was. Not. Happening. Life couldn't possibly be that despicable, could it?

Blaine's eyes flew open, the flecked irises resembling fissures of shattered mirrors. Searching Kurt's eyes for reason he saw that they didn't return his gaze. Instead they were locked on the figure of Sebastian standing in the doorway.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven:

Kurt's face bled of colour. Even his sapphire eyes seemed to dim, surrounded by white as they bugged out of his head. No one in the room was talking; their chanting and catcalling had ceased as they sat with rapt attention waiting for the drama to unfold.

Untangling his fingers from his curls, Kurt fumbled away from Blaine, struggling to get on his feet. He swayed on the spot and Sebastian caught him with one hand. "Well you've _obviously_ been drinking darlin'," he said laughing as he looked pityingly towards Blaine. Everyone took his cue and laughed along with him, breaking the thick tension that had settled over the room. Sebastian's cool demeanour and smile might have misled Kurt and the circle of teens but Blaine was acutely aware of the malice behind the look he'd shot him.

"I-I thought you were in New York," Kurt stammered as Sebastian slipped a hand into the small of his back. "Told you I had a surprise babe. Didn't realise you'd surprise _me _with a floor show… thanks for warming him up _Blake," _he said, constricting his arm like a snake until Kurt was pressed securely against him. Blaine cringed at the gesture, ignoring the pathetic jab.

"Got a couple more surprises too, here-" he said sliding a thin black box into Kurt's hand. Kurt Bit his lip as he lifted the lid off the box, gingerly pulling out a sheer sheet of fabric. "No. Way. Are you serious? _McQueen?_" Kurt exclaimed. Sebastian laughed as he unthreaded the scarf already adorning his neck and draping it over the door handle, "Only the best for _my _guy." Blaine didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to him when he uttered the word _my, _as he tied the scarf possessively around Kurt's throat.

"There, perfect," he proclaimed, pulling on the knot of the scarf until he caught Kurt's lips again his own. Blaine averted his eyes, pulling at the black bracelets around his wrists and trying in vain to ignore the scene. Kurt broke off first; his face tinged pink with an awkward smile. A couple of the girls got up from the circle, shuffling over excitedly to see the scarf, forcing Kurt to twirl on the spot. Mercedes stayed on the floor watching Blaine as he came close to snapping the thick material of the bracelets.

"Let's grab a drink," Sebastian commanded Kurt, wrapping his arm back around him and gripping his elbow. As he led them both to the door the small crowd still circled on the floor hopped up to follow their host and his popular boyfriend, knocking the abandoned scarf off the handle as they stampeded out the door.

Before they exited the room Kurt ran an index finger over the surface of his lip turning to look at Blaine over his shoulder. Blaine failed to notice, his eyes were still cast down concentrating on the bracelets as if they were handcuffs he was trying in vain to break free from. As a firm hand guided him away Kurt turned back to Sebastian feigning laughter at a joke he hadn't heard.

At the tinkling of Kurt's laughter Blaine looked up, watching with wide sad eyes as the figure of the boy retreated out of sight wrapped in the arms of his boyfriend. He rose on shaky legs, the aftershocks of the kiss still reverberating through his skin that had left his bones liquid. Noticing the pool of fabric he crouched to retrieve the discarded scarf. Holding the delicate fabric in his hands he briefly brought it to his nose and inhaled the scent of Kurt.

Turning around with the scarf still under his nose he jerked at the sight of Mercedes perched on the edge of the bed watching him. His face flushed scarlet as he walked to the wardrobe, opening the door to put away the scarf and hide his embarrassed expression. "_That, _was positively the most intense round of spin the bottle I have _ever_ witnessed," Mercedes pealed, leaning back on her wrists, "and that includes the time he made out with your sister."

"Well I guess now he's had the entire Anderberry set," Blaine replied flippantly, flicking slowly through the hanging fabrics. Avoiding her gaze he searched through the collection, trying locating the right place for the scarf. Kurt catalogued his clothes with the same care Blaine afforded to the books on his shelves, divided by season, colour and designer.

The weight of the bed shifted as Mercedes hopped up, swaying on the spot as she drunkenly made her way towards Blaine, "Seriously though, I'm this close to asking Santana for a cigar after that little show, it was that hot." Strutting in his direction Blaine fought for a reply, "…Well you cheerio's know how to put on a good show don't you."

"Didn't really seem like a show though did it Blaine?" she inferred now standing next to him. After hanging the scarf and closing the door carefully, he turned to look at her, eyes blank and suddenly wishing he had his glasses to hide behind. "It was spin the bottle Mercedes, I really wouldn't read that much into it."

Mercedes slipped her fingers under the collar of Blaine's shirt, straightening the fabric ruffled by Kurt's assault, she smiled secretively as she spoke, "Well you're a smart guy, I'm sure you're right." She walked away making to leave, but as she stood in the doorway she turned back to Blaine who was leaning against the closet door. "But then again if it was just a 'spin the bottle kiss'…" she asked, tapping her fingers on the door frame, "Why did he kiss you twice?"

Closing the door as she left Blaine felt the words linger in the air, settling on his skin like an intoxicating perfume. For a moment he wondered himself, replaying that soft kiss he'd left on his lips before pulling away. But then he'd remember the first time; that he'd not wanted him, that he'd asked for someone else. Burying his face in his hands he slid slowly down the wood until he settled on the floor.

….

Down in the kitchen Jeremiah had reappeared at the makeshift bar mixing more cocktails, having popped outside earlier to answer a phone call. He was pouring two spirits simultaneously into one glass as Sebastian sauntered in, an arm still coiled around Kurt's waist. "Wow you hired a barman. Classy Kurt," Sebastian's entitled voice echoed against the walls, "I'll have a beer and my boyfriend will have a Purple Rain - if you think you can handle it." Jeremiah arched an eyebrow at the brazen youth wondering if he was for real.

When he didn't respond Sebastian said more slowly, "Oh I'm sorry, do you even speak _English_? BEER-" he yelled before Kurt him off. "He's not a barman Seb, that's Blaine's… _friend_," Jeremiah smiled crookedly at the jealous inflection in Kurt's voice.

"Well well well! So Blaine _does_ have other friends apart from you and the ditzy blonde," Sebastian quipped pointing at Brittany who sat cross-legged on the counter across the room drinking from a glass of milk. "Her name is _Brittany_," Kurt replied irritably, "You've met her several times. I remember _your_ friends names." Brittany looked up over her glass at the sound of her name, but they didn't seem to notice. It was the first time Kurt had snapped at Sebastian.

"While _Blaine's Friend _is my formal name, feel free to call me Jeremiah," he interjected passing Sebastian a bottle off the counter with a smirk. Selecting a bottle filled with blue liquid from the back row of bottles he flipped it over an empty glass. "And I might not be _Kurt's_ bar man, I am _a_ barman. Think I've seen you before at The Olive Stone," he said referencing the restaurant he tended bar at in Westerville. "Perhaps… I've been known to stop by," Sebastian drawled as he attempted to paw at Kurt. The lithe cheerleader still perturbed dodged his greedy hands, eliciting a frown from his boyfriend, the irises darkening.

Brittany watched the boys exchange as she gulped her milk. She'd been sat here for a while watching as Jeremiah had made all the brightly coloured drinks - _Red Orange Yellow Green Blue _and now _Purple, _she saw as she added grenadine to the blue drink_._ Must be a gay super power to be able to make drinks all the colours of the rainbow, she assumed.

She liked Jeremiah. He'd given her an entire bag full of little cocktail umbrellas, which she'd used to adorn the buns she had just tied in her hair. Smiling broadly he'd complemented her decorations and handed her a glass of milk. They'd talked about Blaine and he'd told him how upset he'd been to have hurt her feelings. However she'd put his mind at ease, letting him know how they'd made up and he'd really seemed genuinely pleased.

In all honestly if Blaine hadn't already found his penguin she'd definitely consider telling him to ask Blaine out on a gay date, see a Zac Efron movie maybe do some hand modelling (that's what a handjob was right?) But she hadn't given up on Kurt and Blaine. Well not yet anyway.

The purple drink was presented to Kurt and he accepted it with a tight smile. Although she couldn't quite make out everything they were saying she did see when Sebastian pointed at the window. She was about to look herself when she noticed his hand reach into his pocket and pull something out. Casting a short furtive glance around he dropped something quickly into Kurt's glass.

When the boys looked back confused he held up his glass in a toast clinking his glass against Kurt's. Sebastian took a long swig of his drink eyeing Kurt over the bottle until he followed his lead. They stayed chatting to Jeremiah until their drinks were empty and Sebastian lead them to the living room, patting Jeremiah on the arm as they left.

Jeremiah chuckled to himself as he walked over to Brittany and she was about to ask what Sebastian had put in Kurt's drink when he asked, "Say Brittany, I'm pretty good at finding cookies, my mum was never able to hide them from me. Fancy some to go with your milk?" The thought of cookies pushed the question right out of her head.

….

True to his word Jeremiah had found half a packet of Oreos hidden in a box of wheat flakes in the pantry. After consuming the whole thing she'd buzzed with sugar, bouncing on the counter in her green hot pants covered ass. As a new song began Santana strolled in eyes alighting when they found Brittany. "There you are! I've been looking _everywhere_ for you!"

"Did you check the moon?" Brittany asked putting the empty packet of cookies down on the counter and lithely hopping off the counter. "It was gonna be my next stop," she said without missing a beat, holding out her pinkie finger for her to take as they made their way through the kitchen. With Brittany's free hand she waved her fingers and said, "Bye Jeremiah."

"Wait wait wait, you know Goldie Locks? Who is he? I thought we'd covered every guy at McKinley between us. I've ticked everyone off in the year book," Santana said thoughtfully as she spied a familiar dark curly haired boy at the end of the hallway. Her brow furrowed, "you know with the _obvious _exceptions."

"He's Blaine friend. He's the one who dressed him up. I guess that makes him his fairy godmother," she replied one statement at a time, the monotone never wavering. Santana laughed raucously, "Oh my bad, I didn't realised he was a _fairy _godmother, guess that makes him Goldie _Cocks_!"

"Oh, there's Blaine now!" Brittany chimed happily as he came to stand in front of them, more rumpled than he'd been when he'd seen her earlier in the night. "Hey Britt… Santana," he tacked on her name begrudgingly. Despite his make up with Brittany he still felt his presence in her life an unwanted one, in fact if he wasn't mistaken he thought he could actually see her thinking about stepping on and grinding a bowtie-wearing cockroach under her heel. Although Rachel deemed herself a 'little psychic' in this instance it was the curly haired Anderberry who was.

"We're going to go dance Blaine. You should come dance with us!" She gazed at Blaine with eyes like a child asking for ice cream, like having Blaine dance with her was the best idea in the world. Santana on the other hand had the expression of a child chewing a mouthful of broccoli, "I- er, um Britt…" Blaine began looking for some excuse, but between those hopeful eyes and the guilt of his recent behaviour he found himself saying, "Ok, Lead on."

Releasing her pinkie from Santana's she grabbed for Blaine's hand and pulled him in excitedly, spinning him through the doorway like the ballerina in her jewellery box. Santana felt her skin burn, as a familiar dangerous voice echoed in her ears; a voice that only she could hear _Blaine debe morir_ Snix hissed. She willed the phantom voice into silence but she knew she couldn't hold her back forever.

Inside the living room everyone was jumping on the spot yelling _T G I F _even Artie who was currently in the arms of Puck, being bounced up and down as if he were weightless. Brittany caught Blaine's other hand and encouraged him to jump with her, umbrellas falling out of her hair as they melted into the crowd and followed the rhythm.

When the chorus came back Brittany wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist and led him in a fusion between waltzing jitterbugging and tangoing. At her mercy he followed her lead, surprised to find he was smiling as she bent him backwards. For a fleeting moment his world was turned upside down and he spied Kurt, dancing like a loon on the coffee table. There was something not quite right about the image but then he was whipped back up and into Brittany's dance tornado and the thought blew away.

They danced this way through a couple of songs Blaine catching the odd sight of Kurt in the gaps between gyrating bodies as he danced manically. "Does Kurt seem… weird to you?" he asked indicating the boy who'd just fallen against a laughing Puck, having abandoned his bro to chat to a swaying Cheerio. Brittany looked at him and frowned, then turned to see Sebastian watching him in the background. A spark of a memory came back to her and she responded, "Yeah. But he's dancing better. I've got to ask Sebastian something."

Walking in his direction Blaine stood awkwardly watching as she weaved through the crowd. For a moment he debated in his mind whether to go and talk to Kurt, see if he was ok, but one look of Sebastian's possessive glare told him it wasn't a good idea. Turning on his heel he walked in the direction of the kitchen to find Jeremiah.

…..

Brittany approached Sebastian, leaning against a wall and sipping at a bottle of beer, watching as Blaine crossed the room and out the door. "Did you put that thing in his drink to make him dance better?" Brittany asked innocently. Sebastian froze, looking briefly horrified.

As he wiped a hand over his mouth his features rearranged into something more calculated as he tilted towards Brittany, "…Yeah, thought I'd test it out before the cheerleading tournament. It's just a little…" he thought quickly on the spot, "Herbal thing. Gives you energy."

"Like a potion?" she asked cocking her head with genuine curiosity. _Perfect_ he thought, "Yeah exactly, got it off the uh leprechaun at your school." The answer seemed to mollify for a moment until her nose wrinkled as she asked another question, "Then why'd you make him look away when you put it in his drink?"

"Well…" he searched for an excuse, although he had trouble remembering her name he hadn't forgotten how simple she was, she'd believe just about anything he told her he was certain. Even so he couldn't afford to leave any loose ties. When the answer came to him he tried not to smile, "…If he knew it was there it wouldn't work. So uh, make sure you don't mention it – to _anyone_." When she didn't appear convinced his brow began to sweat, he knew he needed to lay it on a little thicker, "I mean if I blabbed and the Cheerio's lost, I don't think _I'd_ be able to forgive myself…"

For a moment Brittany looked aghast, picturing the disappointment of her friends if they lost. Sebastian gleefully acknowledged this and held out a long pinkie finger, "so - our little secret?". She stared at the digit for a while before hesitantly wrapping her own around his and shook. "Good girl," he couldn't help snidely adding. As he drew his hand away he noticed a little milk was still clinging to the top of her lip, the trace of a moustache she'd wiped away. Extending a finger he wiped it off with a quick flick of his finger, making Brittany's skin crawl.

"_Brittany_! It's our song!" Tina exclaimed running over excitedly and yanking her by the arm. She pulled them across the room to flank Kurt who was already furiously dancing to Beyonce's _Single Ladies._ Sebastian watched Kurt through leering lashes as he thrust his hips in sinuous uninhibited rolls. Popping the milk covered finger in his mouth his lips curled into a sly smile. _Soon,_ he thought.

**As a side note I've had a little experience with this myself first hand. Long story short I wasn't the intended victim but I did drink a drugged drink in a club without realising. I never did find out what the drug was so I'm basing this loosely on my own experience of what happened to me based on what I remember and what my friends told me. I hope this isn't a trigger or offends anybody. I should hopefully be posting again this weekend as I've written most of the next chapter. Was going to be one chapter but then it was getting a bit too long and I'm just cruel enough to leave it there lol. Happy Klaine Week everyone :) x**


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve:

"Wow…" Jeremiah exclaimed leaning his arms against the bar as Blaine finished recapping the events of the last couple hours, well at least up until the point where he'd ended up sitting alone on Kurt's bedroom floor. They'd both stood chatting alone in the kitchen for the last ten minutes, as near enough everyone had now flooded the living room, dancing until they were inevitably kicked out or crashed out.

"Explains the way they were acting with each other I suppose," Jeremiah mused. Blaine stared blankly at him for a moment then asked, "sorry what? They were acting weird, when did you even meet Sebastian?"

"They came in for a drink like… thirty minutes ago?" he said, his tone questioning as he tried to remember. "He didn't even have to say who he was, I knew it was him the moment I saw him from the way you described him. I've actually seen him at work a few times. He's a real…" he paused looking for the right word.

"Stud? Dreamboat?" Blaine replied petulantly. "Actually, I was gonna say a real douchebag," Jeremiah countered and Blaine laughed, eliciting a crooked smile from Jeremiah. When Blaine's laughter finally subsided he continued his story, "_Anyway_, he was all over Kurt. But Kurt kept dodging him… And he snapped at him."

That caught Blaine's attention; he knew from Kurt that Sebastian could be 'handsy' but he hadn't heard of Kurt getting angry with him. "Yeah? What about?" Blaine asked, with a serious tone. "He couldn't remember Brittany's name. I met her by the way, she's sweet. A little odd, kind of… innocent," he added tactfully. Blaine's lips curled into a smile, "Yeah, her heart's in the right place though… unlike a certain rodent faced _slut_ who shall rename nameless…" Jeremiah laughed endearingly, finding the word _slut _coming out of Blaine's polite rhetoric unexpectedly adorable.

"I'm going to miss having her around when she passes her test. Christ it's less than a week now," Blaine continued thoughtfully, albeit a little more sadly. Jeremiah took a hand off the bar and used it to pat him on the shoulder, "Blaine she'll still be around after she passes. That girl's not letting you go, she talks about you like you hung the moon."

Blaine sighed dragging a hand through his curls, his elbow pointing skyward as his fingers rested at the back of his neck, kneading the tense muscles. "I hope you're right. I don't have a lot of close friends. I used to hang out with my friend Mike a lot but he's barely been around since he started dating Tina. Kurt's my best friend but well… you know,"

"I know. Well, for what it's worth," Jeremiah said, his voice soft, "you've got me as well." Blaine fingers stopped their motion before resting on his shoulder. Two things about what he'd said surprised him: 1.) that Jeremiah basically had called himself a friend and 2.) how much he realised he wanted him as a friend. When he turned to look him in his eyes; brown, warm and inviting he simply said, "thank you."

Jeremiah pushed off the bar and dug into his pocket, retrieving his phone. "It's almost one. I should really get going, do you want a ride home?" he asked, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "No but thanks, it's quicker if I walk. Besides I want to stay a bit longer, make sure Kurt's ok. He was acting kind of weird."

"How so?" Jeremiah asked, intrigued and a little worried. "Well he-"

Blaine was cut off by a loud crash and yelling, they both whipped their heads to the noise coming from the hallway. Stepping out of the kitchen they found Finn towering over Puck who was wiping a steady stream of blood from under his nose. As he stumbled to his feet, swaying drunkenly from side to side more people came to watch the unfolding carnage. "What the hell dude? What was the sucker punch for? I thought we were bros?"

"_Bros_?" Finn spat the word like it was a curse, attempting to lung for his face again but held back by Sam's restraining hands. "First you knock Quinn up. Then you make out with Rachel. And now you're making out with anything that moves, like you only did it to hurt me. What's the matter with you?"

"Look Finn, it's not that simple! You can't keep the Puck-aconda in captivity. It's gotta be free to roam so it can shed it's skin and stuff. Besides it ain't my fault Rachel's a skanky little snake charmer." This time Sam wasn't strong enough to hold onto him and Finn came careening towards Puck who promptly bolted for the front door choosing _flight _over _fight_. "Get back here!" Finn yelled at the top of his lungs as he leapt through the open door after him.

"Guys! Guys! Finn's wailing on Puck!" Rick the mullet headed hockey player called, instigating a stampede that could truly rival that of The Lion King. Blaine and Jeremiah jogged through the empty hallway, the only sound now was the unimpeded auto-tune of Ke$ha singing _Tic Tok. _When they arrived on the doorstep they could see that Puck had managed to get as far as three lawns away before Finn had apparently tackled him. Sam and Mike were unsuccessfully attempting to break them apart as the irate owner of the house was threatening to call the police.

"I can't _believe _they're fighting over _my _sister!" Blaine exclaimed, watching the spectacle with wide eyes. "They're going to get everyone arrested at this rate!" Jeremiah said anxiously, shifting on the balls of his feet. "Wait here!" he called as he sprinted towards the crowd.

Blaine observed the scene with something akin to mild amusement. He started to wonder why Kurt wasn't going ballistic at Finn for ruining their party. No matter how drunk he might be, he could never pass up an opportunity to rein bitch supreme, especially over his hapless stepbrother. That's when it hit Blaine. Kurt wasn't in the fray of onlookers… and neither was Sebastian.

Spinning on his heels he surveyed the downstairs with quick, darting flicks of his eyes but there wasn't a soul in sight. Panic started to flare under his skin, the contents of his stomach churning dangerously as a nauseating coppery taste flooded his mouth. With a sickening realisation he looked upwards at the ascending stairs then sprinted up the two steps at a time, praying that his gut feeling was wrong.

Kurt's door was closed when he arrived outside it, the edges dark and silent. _Maybe I've got Sebastian all wrong _Blaine wondered _maybe he just put Kurt to bed… _With trepidation he pressed at ear to the cold wood and listened intently.

There wasn't a sound to be heard and silence was deafening. He was about to turn around when he heard the faintest pop, like wet suction, followed by a low hissing like a snake, "Shhhhh… shhhhhh Kurt, it's ok. I'm here. I'll take good care of you…" Sebastian crooned, resuming the wet noise. A whisper with barely the strength of a breeze responded, "_no…no…"_

_That Bastard! _Blaine few into action. He twisted the handle savagely, but the door wouldn't budge. He pummelled his fists against the wood, the bones in his hands screaming as he cried, "Sebastian! Open this goddamn door _right now! KURT!"_ With as much strength as he could muster Blaine launched himself at the solid wood. The collision sent a splintering pin through his shoulder and all his effort had succeeded in was rattling the door in its frame. He continued to call Kurt's name desperately, the piercing sound a crackling note.

Stepping back to charge the door again he very nearly ran right into Sebastian who'd suddenly appeared. Clicking the door shut behind him he towered over Blaine, "'_Kurt! Kurt! '_Can you _hear _yourself Blaine?" he mimicked with cruel amusement._ "_You really need to get over this obsession you have with him. It's _very_ unhealthy."

Blaine surged for the door handle but was quickly blocked, "get out of my way Sebastian. Or I swear I'll…I'll…" he stammered, searching hopelessly for anything to threaten the imposing boy with. Sebastian chortled pushing him backwards with ease. "Blaine this is all very cute but my boyfriend is currently waiting for me to ravish his brains out, so I'd really like to bring an end to whatever this is," he said wagging a finger in Blaine face.

"Kurt is _not _interested in you. It was a nice little ego boost to have you trailing around after him but it's gotten to the point of _sad_. Now I can tell you've put some effort in tonight, and even I'll admit you could borderline pass for acceptable looking but know this. You are _still_ a looser. You're always going to _be_ a looser. So why don't you run back home, cry about it in your diary and then jerk off to his class picture, 'cause it's the closest you're ever going to get."

_Snap. _Blaine's knuckles stung as he shook his hand. It was shocking how much punching Sebastian in the face had hurt. He and Mike had watched quite a few kung fu movies together in the past and none of those guys had shaken their hands after breaking a slab of concrete in half. However the stinging in his hand was nothing compared to the pain in his head as he was propelled back savagely against the wall, the audible crack of his skull ringing in his ears.

Blaine's vision blurred through his contacts and he felt dizzy, the room spinning slowly like a merry-go-round. As the scene came into focus his first sight was that of a fist bunched in the fabric covering his chest, holding him firmly in place. Then as they trailed up he flinched at the sight of cold metallic eyes, glaring back at him with unrestrained fury. "You need to learn your place _Blaine_," he spat venomously.

In Blaine's periphery vision he watched as Sebastian's fist rose, the skin stretching taut and white, over the hard bones, as it hung suspended in the air. Blaine closed his eyes, his body tensing as he waited for the blow.

A tearing noise rang in his ears and for a fleeting moment he wondered if it was his skin. But his chest was lighter and he realised the hand that had held him down was gone. When he dared to open his eyes he saw Jeremiah had a hand locked around Sebastian's fist, twisting it to an unnatural angle behind his back whilst he savagely dug his fingertips into the crook of Sebastian's other arm.

Blaine watched in awe as the impossibly tall boy who'd probably just been about to knock him out was reduced to a wincing and whimpering mess under Jeremiah's unrelenting clutch. "Right you little _shit_," Jeremiah spoke directly into his ear, twisting the arm tighter until he gasped. "Parties _over_." And with that he wrenched him away and marched him unceremoniously down the stairs.

Blaine slid to the ground, breathing heavily as his hand snaked around to the back of his head. He gingerly touched the tender raised area where his head had collided with the wall and winced. It throbbed wildly, increasing when he heard the sound of the front door slamming and pounding footsteps running up the stairs.

Jeremiah knelt on the ground in front of Blaine, his faced etched with concern. "I came back and you were gone. Everyone fled when the neighbours threatened to call the police, even Puck and that tall guy he was fighting with. What the hell happened here?" Blaine fought to get the words out between his ragged panting, "I-I saw him take Kurt upstairs. And he looked… he looked so out of it. I thought he was going to…"

_Oh god, Kurt._

Blaine was suddenly stumbling to his feet, ignoring the scolding pain in his head and lurching towards the door. He flung it open and stopped in his tracks.

A bridge of light stretched from the open door, stencilling Blaine's still silhouette across the wall over the bed, where Kurt's body lay strew in fretful angles. Rolling his head away from the obtrusive light, Kurt whined brokenly and burrowed his rose stained cheek into the folds of his hastily discarded black cardigan. Little care had apparently been given to the article as an inverted sleeve hung off the edge, floating on the surface of the floor like the fingertips of a drowned corpse.

Kurt's writhing movements caused a rift to surface in the fault line of his shirt; the soft button edged folds yawning open to expose a slender streak of unimpeded fair skin. It ran parallel from his throat, (still swathed by Sebastian's silk scarf) to his navel; the small dent in his flesh a sickening juxtaposition to the empty buttonhole of his pants.

His pants were unbuttoned.

This small detail, the open button, was enough to completely break Blaine. "_Oh Kurt…"_ he chocked as he stumbled across the room, ignoring the swelling pain in his head and shoulder as he careened towards the boy he'd loved over half his life. As he crawled across the sheets, the shift in weight made Kurt momentarily recoil, until the familiar texture of Blaine's hand tentatively stroked with featherweight care across his forehead. His touch transformed him, stilling his fretful body and smoothing the wrinkled skin shrouding his eyes, like choppy water gone eerily still.

"That kid is despicable," Jeremiah finally said, his presence making itself known as he hovered a short distance from the two boys. "You don't think he...?" Jeremiah asked, the question filled with implication, reverberating in the silence like the aftermath of a heavy church bell ringing. "No," Blaine replied quietly, continuing to card his fingertips through the silken strands of Kurt's hair. "But I think he would have if I hadn't gotten here in time. _Urgh!_ I knew there was something wrong before. I shouldn't have-I should have- I..I…" choking on guilt he searched hard for the words. "_None _of this is your fault Blaine. But I think we should call someone. Maybe take him to the hospit-"

"_No!_" Blaine almost shouted. His hand flew from Kurt's head and the semi-conscious boy whimpered from the loss of contact. Returning his hand to his face, he delicately caressed the soft skin, cooing softly until he settled again.

Blaine bit his lip and took a long drag of air before explaining, "Sorry it's just… he _hates_ hospitals. His mum, not to mention his dad well… I just don't want him to wake up alone and get scared when he realises where he is." He paused before continuing, "I-I'll stay here. I'll stay up all night and watch him. I'll make sure he's safe. When he wakes up I'll explain, and-and I'll take him myself."

Jeremiah wavered, his instinct telling him not to listen to Blaine's pleas. He sighed, "Ok, look," he said, taking a sharpie off the bedside table and drawing Blaine's free hand into his own. Across the taupe skin he wrote ten little numbers in a careful script as he spoke, "you call me if anything happens Blaine. _Any_ time. You promise?" Blaine nodded sagely, "Yes, I will. I promise."

"Good," Jeremiah said with finality, capping the lid on the pen and placing it back on the nightstand. As an afterthought he added carefully, "Text me tomorrow as well, let me know he's ok… And you as well." With that he turned to leave but just as he was crossing the threshold Blaine spoke, "Thank you. Thank you for everything." Jeremiah paused for just a second, smiling crookedly, "you're welcome Blaine." Then he disappeared, leaving nothing in the darkness but the lingering echo of his dissolving footsteps.

Blaine glanced over at the clock glowing red on the nightstand - 01:58. He groaned inwardly, wincing at the throbbing in his head coupled with the prospect of the long night stretching ahead in front of him. An arm suddenly wound low around his waist, pulling him in tightly. Blaine's breath hitched as the arm was closely followed by first a knee wrapping over his legs and finally Kurt's cherubic cheek resting lightly against his chest.

The hand tangled in Kurt's hair slid down his back, tracing stars over the expanse with his fingertips. He continued to do this until the sun cracked the edges of the window like the fault lines of a volcano.

Author Note: This was a short chapter for a couple of reasons: 1.) I decided to not tag it onto the previous one so as to have two shorter chapters instead of one really long one (When I'm reading fics I generally prefer it that way) and 2.) It was going to be longer but I moved the end of the chapter to the beginning of the next chapter.. But I'm digressing. I really just wanted to say that we're coming towards the end now and there'll be about another 2-3 chapters left depending on how much I end up writing. Also I have made quite a few notes for a possible sequel but I'll talk about that a bit more later... Thank you all for your lovely reviews and favourites - they're always much appreciated :) KB x


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen:

Kurt felt terrible.

In fact, "terrible" didn't really begin to describe the searing pain penetrating in and around his temples and eye sockets, but with his mind currently occupied by _pain, _he wasn't in a position to give a more descriptive assessment.

However, he was aware of a couple of things. First and foremost, of course, Kurt was _very_ aware of the headache; its persistent thrumming wouldn't let him forget for a moment. Secondly, he felt a faint bubbling in his gut, coupled with a pooling of saliva in his mouth: both worrying indicators that sooner or later, he'd be violently sick.

Waking up was turning out to be a long, drawn-out process. His eyes were so caked with sleep that they fluttered heavily like a honey-covered moth for a full minute before opening at all. And once he'd finally managed to open his lids, Kurt quickly clamped them shut again, moaning piteously as the faintest sliver of life fragmented his vision, leaving him unable to focus on anything.

It was odd how seasick Kurt felt, considering that the closest he'd ever gotten to a boat was watching _Titanic_. But seasick was the only way he could describe this feeling. The edges of everything blurred, bending back and forth as if he were rocking on a deck. Perhaps he'd be sick sooner rather than later, he thought.

Pulling himself tighter against his pillow, he twisted his fists into the fabric, grazing his face against the soft cottony pillowcase as his cheek bumped against something small, cool, and plastic. For a moment, he was reminded of _The Princess and the Pea, _and he thought that maybe he'd been going overboard on the moisturizing if his skin was _that _sensitive. Despite the little lump, (whatever it was), he felt a sudden comforting sensation envelope him as he burrowed his head into the bedding. _This is where I belong, _he thought, deciding in that moment to never leave his bed again.

However, something was niggling at him. The scent was familiar but out of place. Not unpleasant though, far from it, in fact. The faintest tinge of coffee mingled with an unidentifiable spice made his nose twitch reflexively. He'd kill for a mug of stuff right about now. You know, if he could lift his head.

"_Kurt, are you awake?" _a hoarse voice murmured, the breeze it exuded tickling the hairs at the back of his head.

_Maybe I'm dreaming_, he thought. Curling in deeper, he groaned in response, and the voice pressed again, a little louder this time, "Kurt?"

This time when Kurt opened his eyes, he gave his vision a moment to settle, letting the objects around him come slowly into focus. A ripped pocket on a shirt was the first thing he noticed: charcoal grey over a layer of purple, exposed under frayed edges. It moved lightly in soft even waves. The small plastic nub, which had imprinted uncomfortably on his cheek, suddenly registered in his brain, and he realised its significance. He was lying on Blaine's chest.

Rolling over onto his back, Kurt dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning as his cheeks flooded red. "Kurt? Are you ok?" Blaine asked, his voice stressed and far too loud for Kurt's current delicate state. "Frruummpphhh…"he muttered in reply, his hands stilling their kneading massage of his eye sockets. "Kurt say something!" Blaine asked again, the rasping urgency in his voice finally catching the other boy's attention.

Stretching open his fingers, Kurt peeked through the slats at Blaine and said in a small serrated voice, "Hi."

"Thank god, I've been so worried, Kurt! I stayed awake all night to make sure you were ok, but I kept thinking maybe I should have called an ambulance or-"

"Blaine, stop. Just… you're yelling, why are you yelling? And why would you call an ambulance? It's a hangover. I get that you're not too familiar with such things but they're uh," he winced, closing his fingers again, "pretty common."

Blaine's weight shifted on the bed, and Kurt assumed he was sitting up. His observation was confirmed when Blaine's voice came from above his head, "Kurt, don't you remember anything?"

_What an odd question,_ he thought. Well, odd until it dawned on him that events from the previous evening were not quite as linear in his head as they maybe should be. In fact, with slowly dawning alarm, Kurt noticed a lot of dark spaces where his memories should be. Removing his hands from his eyes, he laid his arms at his sides, squinting at the ceiling as he tried to jog his memory.

There'd been alcohol, a lot of alcohol. A heavy bottle of wine in his hands, gone light, red Solo cups crushed under the weight of his fist, and a couple of evil looking vials filled to the brim with green liquid that had quickly vanished. _If evil had a taste,_ he thought, _it would definitely be green._

There was a scarf too. A beautiful McQueen scarf he knew cost over $600 (after all he'd eyed it longingly enough times on the website). His hand jumped reflexively to his throat, scratching at the cool bare skin.

"I took it off. I was afraid you'd choke on it in your sleep," Blaine said, answering Kurt's un-verbalised question. How did he so often know what Kurt was thinking? Looking up, Kurt watched Blaine through a trellis of lashes.

"Thanks…"he said as he rose ungracefully into a sitting position. "I remember bits… What happened to your shirt?" he asked, indicating the large tear in the fabric.

"That's not important right now," Blaine said softly, playing self-consciously with the frayed edges of the tear. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Kurt sifted through the images in his mind one by one. Faces kept flashing by, as if he were rapidly flipping through a magazine. A few were featured more frequently than the others, with various expressions in assorted scenarios. One in particular caught his mind's eye, repeating over and over. Finally he gave Blaine an answer, "I remember him giving me a drink."

"Kurt, I…I think he might have put something in your drink," Blaine said, sore red eyes teeming with unshed tears. Kurt ached at the signed, he wanted nothing more than to brush them aside with the pads of his thumb.

"I think you're right Blaine. I'm- I'm so sorry."

"Why on earth are you sorry, Kurt? You have _nothing _to be sorry about," Blaine said, grasping his hand.

"No, I know, but well, he's your friend or whatever. It can't be easy finding out that he did that," Kurt responded, gazing into his eyes, still luminous even though they were clearly tired.

But they were furrowing now, a prominent crease bridging the gap between them. "Sebastian is _not _my friend," he paused, "Wait, you don't mean…? _Jeremiah?"_

"Of course I mean Jeremiah! He's the one who made the drink! Why on earth would you think Seb would do that?" Kurt said, voice rising in pitch defensively as he dropped Blaine's hands. _Ok so maybe I told you he's been a bit 'heavy' lately, but I'm not stupid enough to date a monster, I'd know if he was like that! Wouldn't I…?_

"Because, you disappeared! Kurt, I was _terrified. _I knew something was wrong, and I came up here and he-he had you in here and he was pawing over you and you were barely conscious, and he-"

"But he's my _boyfriend–_" Kurt interrupted. _Ok,_ _yeah, that was a lame argument, _he thought.

"So what Kurt? That doesn't give him – that doesn't give anyone the right to do what he did!"

"But he didn't _do _anything!"

"That's because I interrupted him! And if it wasn't for Jeremiah-" Jeremiah's name was a bright crimson flag flashing in Kurt's mind, goading him.

"Jeremiah! Jeremiah! Jeremiah!" he snapped with the petulance of a child, "Who the hell _is_ he Blaine? You've never even mentioned him before, and then you just turn up with him after you left in the middle of the night saying you were 'sick' dressed like…" Kurt's hands gesture in front of him, adjectives evaporating into steam off of his angry tongue.

He paused, visibly shaking as the steady thrumming pain in his head escalated. Then he thought of the last couple of weeks, of how Blaine had obviously avoided him, missed phone calls, been unavailable… and it finally seemed to click.

"Is this why you've been acting so weird? Why you've been avoiding me, not answering your phone or replying to my messages?"

Blaine looked flabbergasted. "Wha-What? You think I…? Huh?" Blaine stuttered, words failing him as he stared incredulously at Kurt.

Eventually Blaine was able to cobble together a more coherent string of words, as his hands made deliberate gestures to punctuate them, "Kurt, _why_ does it even mater? What should matter is that Sebastian tried to assault you and –"

"This is insane Blaine!" Kurt trilled shrilly, exacerbating the headache that was leaning precariously over the barrier between painful and full-on migraine. But at this precise moment, Kurt couldn't care less.

You see, Kurt was a lot of things: sassy as a sidekick, sexy as hell in skinny jeans, a flawless dancer, a heart-wrenching countertenor…but he was also _stubborn_. As stubborn as white silk stained red with wine, which was ironic considering Kurt's current physical state; his skin was excreting a lingering bitter tang of spirits, and his alabaster cheeks were flooded with hot red blood.

So right now, with the world's worst hangover, lying in a wrinkled heap in half his clothes and with half his memories, feeling confused and humiliated, Kurt ignored the sage words of his best friend, (the personification of rational and trustworthy), and punched the big, red, imaginary self-destruct button instead.

"I know I told you he's been… heavy. But he's just… he's not capable of this!" Kurt argued feebly.

"How do you know what he's capable of? You barely know him-"

"**_Well right now it feels like I barely know you!"_**

Kurt's words were lightening, tearing a fork through the centre of the room. All was silent as they waited on the precipice, not breathing; counting down. Then, as inevitable as accompanying thunder, Blaine choked on a sob, eyes saturated with tears he could no longer hold, and he leapt off the bed towards the door.

"Blaine –_Blaine _where are you going?" Kurt cried, crawling woozily to the edge of the bed.

Blaine was a blurring figure retreating out his door.

Kurt called again, voice breaking and desperate, "_Bl-aine!" _

Blaine turned in the doorway. "No, Kurt, _I can't. _I can't fight for you…with you anymore! If you really can't see… well I can't stay to watch."

The door didn't slam as Blaine left, but it might as well have. It echoed loudly inside Kurt's head, keeping time to the worsening ache that splintered his nerves.

Kurt had really done it this time.

…

**A/N:**

I can't imagine I'm too popular after that. Just bare in mind we're coming to the end so….

**Anyway this was originally tagged onto the next chapter but it was really long (for me) so decided to break it up a little. **

**Big thank you to my fabulous new Beta Ariy Baby :D x**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen:

Almost immediately after Blaine had gone, Kurt lurched to his en suite, the low boiling in his belly rising as his word vomit was replaced with hot, acidic, _literal _vomit. Somewhere after the twelfth heave, he lost count as he gripped the rim of the toilet, shoulders arched as the sweat clinging to his shirt cooled to ice. After an hour or so, (he couldn't really be sure), he collapsed, curled around the bowl with his forehead resting against the cool porcelain, too spent to even wash the foul taste out of his mouth.

It wasn't until a pair of what felt like steel-toed sneakers were jabbing into his side that Kurt realised he'd fallen asleep. Eventually, one of the shoes kicked hard enough to roll him onto his back, and he opened his eyes to find two blonde heads attached to one body hovering above him like a human hydra. The beast came slowly into focus, and the two heads merged into one very angry face: Coach Sylvester.

_What is she doing here? And how did she get in? _Then he remembered. The cheerleading tournament was less than a week away and he was due to take his last _special secret _gym lesson. As for how she got in… well she was Sue Sylvester; no further elaboration was necessary.

"I've been waiting outside for _thirty_ minutes! You'd better have a damn good excuse for wasting my time, Porcelain."

"Urrrgghhhhiiiiuhhh…"

"Enough. You get out that door in one minute or I'll show you what suffering really is."

Despite the fact that Kurt had never felt this horrible in his life, he grabbed the first available pair of sweats he could lay his hands on and his pre-packed gym bag, then stumbled outside to find Sue idling on his curb in her precious Le Car.

As they squealed away, Sue informed him that today's session had been funded out of the Glee club's transport budget.

_Great, _thought Kurt,_ it will only be a matter of time before Mr. Schuster suggests another bake sale to make up for the funds._ The thought felt like another kick in the gut.

For a moment, Kurt wondered if he was going to be sick again, so he rolled the window down and leaned his head out, taking in lungfuls of blissfully cool air. But the feeling didn't abate, because it wasn't the lingering effect of his monstrous hangover turning his stomach into knots this time: it was the reminder of Blaine. He'd done so much baking for him in recent weeks it was hard to separate the thought from his friend.

_Friend_. He hoped he could still call Blaine that.

From the moment they arrived, Sue worked Kurt to the bone, backed up by his special instructor, a tiny broad-shouldered man with more hair on each hand than he had on his entire head.

Together they created a thunderous chorus, heckling and jeering.

"I've had more graceful bowel movements!"

"Watching this is more painful than giving birth to septuplet porcupines!"

"Seventy year old men undergoing prostate exams have more sex appeal than you!"

Coach Sylvester feasted on ridicule like Coach Beiste feasted on chicken – unashamedly and in staggering quantities.

At one point, Sue threw her bullhorn at Kurt's head; he only narrowly missed the flying plastic as it grazed his ear and smashed loudly against the floor. Unfortunately for Kurt and his pounding headache, she had a spare one with a grating reverb that sounded like someone dragging their finger nails sharply against the hood of a car.

Maybe if they could be certain one way or the other that Brittany would be participating in the competition, they wouldn't have to work Kurt as hard as they were. However, until the results of her test were in, he would have to know two different sets of choreography. Of course, it hadn't helped matters that he'd angered Sue Sylvester by making them late.

By the late evening, Kurt had sweat right through his hastily grabbed tracksuit. The heather grey darkened to charcoal, and the pungent aroma of booze wafted off his skin like cheap aftershave. It had been twenty-four hours since he'd applied any kind of skin cream or moisturizer, and he knew he'd pay for that when his pores resembled the exterior of a golf ball tomorrow.

Once they'd finished, Sue had piled him back in his car and they'd driven home in eerie silence. It would be better if she were yelling at him; her cool calm demeanour felt alarmingly like the eye of a hurricane. Since she'd accepted him on the cheerleading squad, Kurt had made mental notes on her behaviour and had spent some time researching psychosis, so he knew that this awful silence was not a good sign.

He flinched when she eventually spoke.

"Porcelain, I've looked after you, nurtured you even, for over three years now."

Considering the precarious state of her mood, he wasn't inclined to contradict her.

"I've watched as you've grown from a clumsy, long legged fawn into a mighty horned stag frolicking in the halls of McKinley like the king of the forest."

Kurt waited patiently, fingers resting lightly on the seatbelt clip because the prospect of jumping from a moving car seemed safer than being around if she really flipped out.

"Now Kurt, I say this was all love and tenderness that I possibly can," Sue began as they pulled to a sudden stop outside his house, fast enough for him to snap forward against the belt. She twisted around, grabbing a handful of his shirt and fixing him with a steely unblinking glare.

"If you screw up this competition, I will hunt you down, shoot your legs off, cut out your heart with a Boeing knife, and eat it raw in front of all the other little woodland creatures. Got it?"

Kurt nodded, his skin suddenly so pale it was translucent. He wondered if she could see the artery pulsing rapidly in his throat.

"Good, now get out." He fumbled hastily for the buckle and ran into the house.

It took a while for his breathing to level out and his heart to resume a healthier pace before he realised that the house was exactly the same as he'd left it when he'd gotten hastily into Coach Sylvester's car that morning.

"_Finn_?" he called weakly, taken aback by the rough cadence in his own voice, which was usually so soft and lilting.

There was no response as he waded in through the flood of empty and half empty Dixie cups, beer cans, cocktail umbrellas, and what appeared to be a sugary pink bra with electric blue trim. Part of him argued that he should find Finn, drag him out on his hands and knees and pick up every last Dixie cup, then lick the floor clean with his tongue.

But Kurt was too exhausted, both physically and mentally. What he wanted most in the world at this moment was a hot shower, a deep cleansing face wash, and a mouthful of Tylenol. Then he wanted to collapse in bed wearing the cooling facemask that he kept in the fridge. However, fatigue set in too quickly for elaborate facial care, and just barely made it to the sofa before he passed out.

…

It was only thanks to Kurt's faithfully preset cell phone alarm that he managed to wake up the next morning. Without its incessant vibrant melody, he doubted he'd ever have gotten up at all. One stretch of his raw muscles squashed any notion of walking the moderate distance to school, and there was no way he'd risk staining his Cheerio's uniform on the disgusting, vermin-infested school bus. So with his phone still in his hand, he dialled a familiar number and spoke before the recipient even had a chance to say "_good morning_._"_

"Cedes' will you _please _pick me up this morning? Oh, and for the love of god, bring the strongest coffee you can find."

Yawning but giggling, she agreed. After he hung up he had just enough time for a hot shower (which barely penetrated the surface of his locked and tired muscles), his most basic skin care regime, and a quick and futile styling of his hair before her horn was blaring outside his front door.

He was still pulling on his signature thick red wristband, worn high up his forearm, as he stepped into Mercedes humming car. She handed him a lukewarm coffee in a tall brown-capped cup, and he took it gratefully.

"Thanks 'Cedes," he said, taking an experimental sip and grimacing.

"Don't you be pulling that face on me, Hummel, _Expresso _is on my way. I ain't driving out of my way to the Lima Bean just to get you a coffee. Caffeine's caffeine," she noted, finishing her own cup as she pulled away from the curb.

"Sorry, I can't control the face. Their coffee is bitterer than Fergie after she was publicly banned from the royal wedding."

"Well maybe it would be a little sweeter if you'd try smiling. Your face is a train wreck this morning," she said, throwing a quick glance his way before her eyes returned to the road.

"Gee, thanks, I love you too."

"Only someone who loves you could tell you that, Hummel," she said with affection. "Seriously though, what's up with you?"

"Coach Sylvester had me working until my lungs were bleeding yesterday. Like, I'm pretty sure I was literally coughing up blood by the end."

"Mmhmmm, and…?" she murmured questioningly.

Kurt sighed resignedly. She'd get it out of him eventually; she always did. It was definitely one of her more _annoying _qualities.

"…And I kind of got in a fight with Blaine."

"Well see, now I understand the Kristen Stewart pout. Care to elaborate?"

He exhaled, slipping on his Raybans. "Not particularly…" Pulling the visor down, he tweaked a stubborn lock of hair at the front of his hairline

"Has it got anything to do with that R-rated kiss?"

Kurt pulled his own hair as he jolted suddenly, "What kiss?"

"_What kiss? _Are you serious, Kurt? You didn't have _that _much to drink! I'm talking about your rather _convenient_ spin the bottle kiss with _Blaine."_

_What on earth is she talking about?_ he wondered. In answer to his internal question, a memory flashed in his mind, a swift-moving negative, tinged sepia. Blaine's deep pink kiss-bruised lips, trembling and creased just inches from his own. Sweet wet traces clinging to the surface, shining like the delicate membrane of a bubble. Leaning forward as if to capture them again… the scene burst, leaving nothing of the visceral memory but the lingering prickle against the surface of Kurt's lips.

"_Oh, Mon Dieu_…"

Mercedes bellowed with laughter as she pulled up to a stop sign close to school. "Oh French is _so_ the appropriate language for right now. There were _definitely _tongues involved…" She laughed again as Kurt thrust his foxy little nose in the air, staring pointedly out of the window.

"Pretty heavy stuff for a spin the bottle kiss," her tone noted conspiratorially.

"No. Comment," he muttered back haughtily, downing the last of his coffee with a scowl.

"_Urgh_, you are such a tease… So if the fight wasn't about the kiss, what was it about?" When he didn't reply immediately she pried further, determined to get some information out of him before they arrived at the gates. "Has is got anything to do with the golden haired _manwich_ he brought to the party?"

"No!" he answered a little too quickly, a sure-fire tell to his long-time friend. "Well, kind of… it was more about…" he mulled over his response before replying with the slightest hiss in the middle of the name, "…_Sebastian_."

"Ahhhh, of course," she said, in a tone that suggested that it was the most inevitable thing possible.

Before she had the chance to interrogate him further on the matter, he added, "It's a long story. One I have no desire to get into right now." Luckily for Kurt, his answers had seemed to satisfy her ravenous hunger for gossip for the time being, and they sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the car ride, listening to the radio.

After they pulled into the lot and parked, Kurt got out first, pulling his shades off and sweeping the grounds with a cursory glance, looking for a familiar vehicle.

"Doesn't look like he's here yet," Mercedes boomed from the other side of the car as she slammed her door, locking up with the click of a button and a flash of lights.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," he replied loftily, hanging the shades from his waistband.

"_Sure _Kurt," she laughed, linking her arm through his as they walked through the doors of McKinley, heads held high in their freshly dry-cleaned Cheerio's uniforms.

Kurt was bombarded the moment he crossed the threshold, as students converged on him like the paparazzi, invading his personal space with congratulations on an _awesome _party (he was quickly getting fed-up with the overused adjective). The worst part though was when someone would mention something he didn't remember.

For example, Tina, (who, in Kurt's kindest opinion, was far too cheerful this early in the morning for someone wearing something from Wednesday Adam's wardrobe), had happily blathered on and on about their apparent performance of _Single Ladies. _When he didn't remember, she got out her phone and scrolled until she produced a picture of the two of them dancing with Brittany, pointing to their ring fingers. _God! I look like a pole dancer! _he thought, mortified.

"It's my new profile picture _and _screensaver. Thanks again for the _awesome _party! See you in glee tomorrow."

A creeping sensation was slowly working its way under Kurt's skin. It felt like an itch he couldn't quite reach to scratch. He had not heard from Sebastian at all since the party, not a single phone call, text or online message. As much as Kurt refused to believe that Blaine might be right, he couldn't quite push away the niggling sensation that things weren't as they should be. In Kurt's mind, the only way he could settle this would be to talk to Sebastian in the flesh; he figured if he saw his face he'd be able to tell if he was lying.

Pulling out his phone he fired off a quick text:

_R u free later?_

With his thumb still hovering over the touch screen, he thought about typing out a quick message to Blaine. But after several failed attempts to articulate his thoughts, he gave up and slipped the phone back in his pocket. He could talk to him in Spanish, his last class of the day.

Spanish was the only class the two boys had together; it was the only subject that didn't have an AP program. Kurt had his suspicions that Mr. Schuster didn't quite have the ability to give an advanced class if Santana's translations of his lectures were anything to go by.

The boys shared a desk by the window, and Blaine often chastised Kurt for gazing out that window when he should be conjugating verbs. With a pout though, Kurt could usually convince Blaine to fill in the blanks with his small loopy cursive before pushing his glasses back up his nose and doodling in the corner of his textbook. He always finished his work before anyone else.

As Kurt sank into his seat, he pulled out his textbook, pens, and spiral bound notebook, fussily arranging them on the desk as he waited anxiously for Blaine to arrive. He was disappointed though as Mr. Schuster arrived, shutting the door behind him as the final bell rang. _Where on earth was Blaine? Blaine was _never _late._

Being _Blaine Anderberry_, his name was always first on the roll call. So when the first name Mr Schuster called was Mike Chang's, Kurt was immediately suspicious. The teacher obviously knew Blaine wasn't going to be here, and Kurt wondered where that meant he was.

Surprised by this revelation, it took several repeats of Kurt's own name before he replied, "What? Oh _here_…" eliciting a few sniggers from his surrounding classmates. He didn't even dignify them with a glower; he just scribbled in the corner of his notebook until the final bell sounded and it was time to trudge to the gym for rehearsal.

…

Practice was _gruelling. _

Even with the entire squad present, Sue kept coming back to Kurt again and again, getting angrier and more creative with her insults as time ticked by sluggishly. However, even Kurt had to concede, she had a point. His performance was definitely lacking its usual flair, that _je ne sais Kurt _that made him so infamous in the cheerleading community.

Towards the end of their session, Kurt kicked his leg up high but misjudged his centre of balance and toppled over. The music cut out, and everyone was staring: Kurt had _never _fallen in practice before, and the sheer humiliation of such a graceless move left him paralysed on the floor, cheeks burning until they matched the shade of his pants.

"Put me in Coach. Kurt's gonna bring us _down,"_ Becky whined, holding her pompoms on her hips and glaring at Kurt as if he were puddle of something putrid. 

"Oh get back to your bell tower, Quasimodo, before I ends you," Santana sniped at Becky as she pulled Kurt to his feet.

"Kiss my ass, Lopez. Or maybe you'd like that too much. If you know what I mean."

Santana lunged for the little girl, spitting harsh-sounding words in Spanish as Mercedes held her back. Santana's face was inches from the short blonde, who shoved at her with palms still clasping pompoms. A long shrill whistle echoed off the walls, followed by an even louder voice.

"_Lopez, Jackson, everyone, _hit theshowers _NOW! _Not so fast Hummel," Sue called, nixing Kurt's plan to make a quick and hasty retreat.

"I thought we spoke about this last night, Porcelain, do I have to show you my firearms before you believe me? I like to keep them on hand in case Wheels' zombie high school movie ever becomes a reality."

"I know, I know! I'm trying my best!" he pleaded, playing with the hem of his shirt, trying not to meet her eyes.

She strode forward, putting her face kissing distance from Kurt's and looking him square in the eyes.

"Well don't _try, __**do**__! _And remember…" she said, pulling away from him and miming shooting out his kneecaps. Then she stomped out of the room, shoving over a stand of dodge balls, which scattered violently around his feet.

There was a text waiting for Kurt when he finally got to his locker. The small handful of male cheerleaders was just heading out as he pulled the glowing phone from his bag's front pocket. Sebastian's name glinted up at him:

_Can't this week babe, real busy – Seb. _

_Well great, just great. How am I supposed to figure this out now? _he thought, frustrated. Part of him knew he should be driving to the hospital right now, so he could pee in a cup and settle this once and for all. But that proud stubborn voice was talking over it, so sure that he couldn't possibly be wrong.

_Blaine's just protective, he's my friend, he just… misinterpreted things. He'll come around and we'll laugh about the whole thing,_ Kurt hoped. He missed Blaine terribly, but that was just another thing he wouldn't admit to anyone.

As an afterthought he texted Sebastian back: _You'll be at the tournament though right?_

With Blaine still angry and avoiding him, and the possibility of his dad missing the event if he gets stuck in traffic on the drive home from the airport, it's beginning to look like there'll be no one there to cheer for Kurt while he competes. As ridiculous an idea as a cheerleader needing cheerleaders themselves is, Kurt didn't care. Because even though he'd refuse to admit it to a soul, he wanted someone to be _there _for him... even if that person was of potentially dubious character…

He took an extra-long shower, letting the heat and weight of the pounding water work away at the tightly wound knots that his muscles had become. They couldn't penetrate all the way through; what he really needed was a strong pair of hands to work out his tension. If he hadn't royally pissed off his coach, she might have sprung for a masseuse, but he would have to work hard to mend the bridge he had burnt with Sue.

When he emerged from the shower, Kurt was surprised to see a text waiting for him. He read it as he towelled off, dripping on the yellowed tiles.

_Wouldn't miss it ;)_

…

Kurt was literally shaking with fury.

That could be linked to the fact that all he'd had to eat all day was a bowl of mung bean soup, which he hadn't even finished. Or it could even be a muscle spasm after the way he'd been abusing his body the last few days. But the real reason Kurt was shaking was because he'd walked in to find that not only was the house still a disaster, but Finn had finally materialised and was sitting on the coach, eating hotdogs straight out of a can and clutched a headband.

"Finn, what the hell are you doing? Why is this place still a dump?"

"Just… just drop it Kurt," Finn said dejectedly, staring off into space.

"I'm not just going to drop it! You promised you'd clean up, and then you disappeared! Where have you- wait, what happened to your face?" Kurt said, finally noticing the bruise lacing Finn's cheek, the slight swell of his lower lip, and the healing scar pointing up like it had been drawn with ink.

"I said drop it Kurt!" Finn yelled, jumping up from the sofa and spilling the can on the floor before storming off to his room like a thirteen year old girl, blasting his music to complete the cliché.

Kurt stood rooted to the spot. His hands reached absently for his head, his fingers writhing between the strands and locking. He screamed, lips wide enough to rip at the corners, the pitch high enough to shatter his bones. When he was done, he stood panting, willing his breathing to even out and his heart to find its rhythm. Then he marched into the pantry, grabbed a roll of trash bags and a bucket of cleaning supplies, and stayed up until almost three in the morning putting his home back in order. At this point, it was the last thing Kurt felt he had any control over.

…..

Mercedes drove him to school again the next day, but they had the added company of her mammoth football-playing boyfriend, Shane. Kurt was grateful for his presence. While he usually loved nothing more than to pull focus, he was starting to show signs of slipping; there was only so much even the most intensive skin care regimens could do. And if Mercedes wasn't as currently occupied as she was, sneaking glances with heart-filled eyes at the boy who was holding the hand designated for two o'clock, she might resume her interrogation.

Kurt scanned his phone for texts, ignoring the flood of messages from everyone still thanking him for the _awesome _party and reminding him of the things he still couldn't remember. All he saw was what was not there, _Blaine_. There hadn't been any contact whatsoever between the two, and as melodramatic as it sounded, bearing in mind it had only been a couple of days, Kurt missed him desperately. He knew he had to make the first move, because he'd been the one to ruin things, but every text or message that he tried to draft was quickly deleted. He couldn't find the words.

"Kurt I'll see you in Glee tonight, right?" Mercedes said, finally pulling her attention away from her boyfriend for a moment.

Kurt looked up, his eyes hidden behind tinted lenses.

"Yes," he replied, too exhausted for his usual sass or sarcasm, Mercedes would have noticed if she wasn't so otherwise engrossed.

She went back to her sickening happiness, and Kurt went back to his phone, eyes scanning his latest draft: _I missed you in Spanish yesterday._

_Riveting stuff Kurt, truly Oscar-worthy writing. 'I missed you in Spanish yesterday' - that'll make up for the fact that you basically called him a liar and said that you don't know him anymore, _he thought to himself, deleting the message letter by letter until all that was left was '_I missed you.' _He looked at the brightly lit words until they dimmed to black. Then he deleted them as well and put the phone away.

_You'll see him in Glee this afternoon; you'll know what to say when you see him. _

But Blaine didn't show, and neither did Brittany or Finn, for that matter. Even Rachel didn't know where her brother was, but she took the opportunity to suggest that a more experienced Anderberry take the solo Blaine had recently been recently awarded, because it would be 'better for the team.' Ignored as usual, apart from a halfhearted insult from Santana, she became concerned with filing her nails and looking somewhat morose.

When Mr. Schuster finally arrived, he informed the group that Blaine and Brittany had been excused so she could cram before her test the next day. But that was fine, he said, because Mike and Brittany would be dancing up front, (a little like their last performance of _Valerie _but more story-based), so today they could focus on the groups harmonies and back up dancing.

"So Mike will be directing your dancing, guys, and I want to see all the work you've been putting in at booty camp! Let's get into position."

"What are you going to do, Mr. Schu?" Sam asked, filing in behind Kurt. Mr. Schuster beamed, standing in front of them all and saying, "Well, someone's got to fill in for Blaine!"

…

"Are you ever going to tell us how you managed to help Brittany pass Spanish?" Mercedes mused, as she and Santana and Kurt got closer to the school's math department. The day of reckoning had arrived, and the trio were on their way to wish Brittany luck and provide a _positive mental field_ (something Kurt had read about in Cosmo a couple of weeks ago).

"I reminded him that Cheerio's wouldn't be the only thing she'd be disqualified from," Santana replied primly.

"Smart, but I'm not buying it. Fess up girl, what did you really do?"

"I _did_ tell him that… but I also might have added that I'd out him to Figgins that he can't actually speak Spanish…"

Kurt and Mercedes gasped in disbelief, speaking in unison, "You _threatened _him Santana?" A wicked satisfied smirk spread across Santana's red lips at they rounded the corner.

"I'd say I can't believe you did that but I have no doubt that –" Kurt stopped mid-sentence, standing stock-still. Brittany was facing the trio, partially blocked by a short boy with dark curly hair (un-gelled: Kurt was surprised his brain even registered the detail) and a very familiar backpack. _Blaine._

When she noticed them watching, Brittany smiled and whispered something in Blaine's ear. He tensed and dropped his arms. He didn't even turn around before scuttling away quickly in the opposite direction, leaving Brittany looking a little dazed.

Kurt felt the bottom of his stomach drop suddenly, like he'd taken a step expecting solid ground and had fallen straight through a crack instead. But this was how it was going to be now, Kurt could feel it; he'd broken something invisible and irreparable between them.

…

They waited cross-legged in the hallway, Kurt on one side and the girls on the other, as far from the class where Brittany was currently taking her test as possible. Time was ticking away, and Kurt used it to catch up on his reading (hats were finally making a comeback, much to his delight) while the girls sat fanning their nails, having just touched up their manicures_. _

Hiding behind the glossy cover of Vogue, Kurt missed the nearly telepathic look that ghosted between the girls: just the slightest twitch of an eyebrow met with an infinitesimal head tilt. Mercedes hadn't had a lot of opportunity in the last few days to pry any further into Blaine and Kurt's fight, but she was salivating to know the details. Even though Santana wasn't aware of as much as Mercedes, she could spot tension a mile away, possibly because she was generally the one causing it.

"Blaine was in kind of a hurry,"Santana said, the nonchalant phrase spoken in the most overtly exaggerated way possible. The intent was as clear as the topcoat on her _salacious scarlet _nails_._

Kurt hitched the magazine up higher, so that it blocked his whole face.

"Mmmmmm," he replied with equally unconvincing indifference.

Mercedes smiled wickedly, "He _was _in quite a hurry, _wasn't _he,

Kurt?" Kurt's lips pulled into a line so thin that it looked like they had been drawn with a pencil. He knew the game they were playing, and he had no intention of being sucked in.

"I'm sure he was just late for work or something," he replied curtly, flicking the page like a whip. "Burberry has a sublime new coat; think it's too late to get on Santa's nice list?"

"You know I've barely _seen _Blaine all this week," Mercedes bulldozed right over Kurt's attempt to change the topic, refusing to let the subject drop.

Santana joined in gleefully, "I wonder where he's been _hiding_, he's usually –"

Kurt dropped his magazine, levelling a glare at the pair of them, using all the strength he had. It apparently wasn't enough, as Santana giggled raucously.

"Oh Kurt, even if your bitch glare was at full power, which it oh-so-pitifully isn't, you forget that I'm top bitch in this town. I've owned that title since _conception_, when little tadpole 'Tana cut her way to the front, sunk her fangs into that precious egg and flipped off all the other wittle tadpole wannababies as they drowned."

"I don't doubt that for a moment. But please, guys, _please_ just drop it…" Kurt pleaded, voice wavering on the final 'please'.

Kurt was like an old vintage silk scarf: one tug of a loose thread away from unravelling completely.

"_Kurt,_" Mercedes murmured gently, the tone exuding guilt. She'd meant no harm; she was only teasing her friend, but it was obvious now that this whole thing went deeper than a tiff as she'd initially thought.

"I-" Kurt started but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Brittany appeared out of the classroom and slumped against the windowed wall, eyes trained downward, her expression unreadable. The trio leapt to their feet, running to the sweet tempered blonde.

"Brittany did you…?" Mercedes asked hopefully, but on closer inspection, the answer was obvious; it was written in her sunken eyes. Shaking her head, she confirmed their suspicions.

"I'm sorry guys. I won't get to be in the contest. I've failed you all."

Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany, who sat her chin on the dark-haired girl's shoulder. Kurt and Mercedes flanked her on either side stroking Brit's arms.

_So much for a positive mental field, _Kurt thought grimly.

The clatter of orthopaedic heels was a loud and unwanted intrusion as Brittany's math teacher came upon the group.

"Brittany I don't know why you look so miserable. A **B **is nothing short of miraculous; you should be very proud of yourself!" Ms Butler said as she strode past the students, whose mouths hung open as she and the stale scent of lavender and vending machine coffee wafted out of sight.

"Brittany! You said you failed!" Kurt nearly shrieked.

"I did, I was supposed to get a C to stay on the team and I got a B. I won't get to perform with you guys," she said, mouth still slack with sadness.

"Oh Brittany, of course you'll get to perform with us, a B is way better than a C!" Mercedes said, beaming.

"Really?"

"Really, really!"

Santana swayed with Brittany on the spot, letting her go to reveal her broad disbelieving grin.

"Oh way to go Brittany, a B! Who would have believed it? B for Brittany! B for Brilliant!" Mercedes bellowed, clapping her hands.

"B for Brainy!" Kurt yelled, jumping in the air.

"B for Beautiful!" Santana said softly, eyes a little misted.

"No guys. B is for Blaine. I could never have done this without him. I have to go thank him. I'll see you later, guys."

As Kurt watched Brittany walk away, he didn't even notice Santana's pout or Mercedes happy dance. Everything in close proximity melted away, and all he could hear echoing in his mind was **Brainy**, **Brilliant**, **Beautiful**… **Blaine**.

_Yeah,_ Kurt thought, _Blaine really is all those things…_

….

**A/N: As I've said before, we're coming towards the end now. There will be _at least _another two chapters: another full Kurt POV and one which will (most likely) switch back and forth. Also on a personal note a big big BIG thank you to my new Beta Ariy Baby – a fabulous individual, thank you for all your help with the last two chapters :D x**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_Authors Note: I'm sorry about the wait. I ran into a little writer's block recently but I **finally **got back into writing it a couple of weeks ago and I had so much fun with this chapter! Got to write a couple of scenes I've had in my head forever and a couple I didn't which (literally) took on a life of their own. There will be **at least **two more chapters and an epilogue but it could go longer depending on how much I write when I actually get typing (for instance this chapter was originally merged with the next but I think when you read the ending you'll know why I stopped there! I hope you guys stick with it and just know I really appreciate all your comments! I'm a good way through the next chapter so * fingers crossed * there will be a new chapter in a couple of weeks because this story is definitely back on track! So without further ado…_

**Chapter Fifteen:**

_Brainy. Brilliant. Beautiful_. It was like the words had been on repeat in Kurt's mind ever since he had left his friends in the hallway, and he couldn't fathom why.

From the moment Brittany got her tests scores back, conversation at McKinley had finally shifted gears, and Kurt's party became a mere speck in the rear-view mirror. And _thank god _was all Kurt could think, because the school hadn't been stalled by such a tedious topic of conversation since the Glee Club's double baby scandal of '09.

On Thursday morning, students had flocked to Brittany, whose _B _grade phenomenon had been picked up by Jacob's blog. He'd cited the first of many conspiracy theories, namely that it was a hoax. But Brittany had proudly hung her framed test paper in her locker, and in the space between homeroom and first period, a plethora of wild explanations had already been enthusiastically debated. Everything from body swapping (as if that was even remotely plausible- that would be like Kurt just waking up one day, putting on plaid, and becoming his stepbrother) to divine intervention in the form of the newly-resurrected Grilled Cheesus.

This had led to a strange fad where people periodically touched Brittany in the hallways for 'luck,' as if she possessed some kind of supernatural aura. Soon the entire school was convinced that with Brittany's supernatural prowess, the Cheerios were guaranteed to win their competition. This, of course, was the other main topic that had people buzzing: Cheerleading Sectionals, to be held in McKinley highs own gymnasium, made possible Sue Sylvester, through underhanded means which Kurt could only shudder to think of.

With the prospect of dozens of young cheerleaders flooding the halls in just a couple of days, the student body, particularly the half packing their genitals up front, were _keyed_ _up,_ to put it mildly. Of course, this also meant that the Cheerios would be competing on their own turf. Figgins had announced that this was an excellent opportunity to bring honour to their school, which, loosely translated, meant that losing was not an option for the Cheerios.

Kurt wouldn't normally be worried: sectionals were essentially a formality with the Cheerios' legacy. But this routine was Kurt's baby. He'd begged and pestered Sue to hand over the creative reigns until finally she'd reluctantly agreed. This routine had been entirely crafted by Kurt's hands, from the choreography right down to the Cheerios costumes, which he'd custom-designed for this performance and included as part of his portfolio for Parsons. The entire thing had been a labour of love. And Kurt was feeling off his game!

Ever since that god-forsaken party he'd been so excited to throw only a couple of weeks ago, Kurt had been floundering, stumbling over steps and missing his cues. It was just so unlike him that it was ridiculous, as if he was missing something essential that made him work, like a cog in one of Blaine's pocket watches. _Blaine… _His thoughts just seemed to keep segueing back to Blaine, Blaine, _Blaine._

Nothing had changed since the almost run-in between the two of them. Every time Kurt tapped out an email or picked up the phone, he'd hover on the precipice before ultimately backpedalling. No words felt right; nothing conveyed how he felt, because Kurt couldn't even articulate that inside his own brain, let alone to someone else.

Without talking to Sebastian himself, Kurt was still reluctant to believe that his boyfriend was capable of what Blaine had accused him of. Until he could decide one way or the other, Kurt couldn't even begin to make amends with Blaine. And Kurt feared that by the time he could, maybe it would be too late.

Since Sebastian's last text, letting him know that he'd be at the tournament, Kurt hadn't heard a word from him. It was too late now to just go to the hospital for a simple test, and Kurt absolutely cursed his stupidity, because as much as he despised hospitals with every part of his being, at least he'd have gotten a clear-cut answer. Mistake after mistake after mistake- it wasn't just the dance steps he was screwing up.

If only his father was here, he'd know exactly what to do, just like he did with cars. Burt knew instinctively how to fix things. But he'd already called a while ago to say there was a storm, and it looked like he wouldn't be back until late Saturday night. When Burt had asked to speak to Finn, he'd had to admit to his dad that he didn't know where his brother was. Like Kurt, Finn was still dealing with the fall-out of the party, and he hadn't been at school all day today. When Kurt had texted him threatening to call the police if he didn't come home, he'd texted back telling Kurt to leave him alone and let him sort things out.

That suited Kurt just fine; he had enough to deal with as it was without subscribing to the latest drama on _The Finchel Show_. He flopped melodramatically into the chair in front of his vanity and switched on the light bulbs surrounding the large mirror.

_Oh, what has become of my face? _Kurt thought sadly, tugging at the sallow, tired skin with his fingertips.

Fumbling for the drawer, he pulled out a lethal concoction of moisturizers and lotions he saved for apocalyptic levels of skin deterioration.

**Oh sweet Jesus what have you done to our face?**

Kurt looked up, startled. His reflection was just _staring _at him. Ok, that sounded ridiculous because, hey, reflections tend to _do_ that! But no, this was different; it was like the Kurt in the mirror had a conscience, his features pulled into an expression of horror and disdain.

**Seriously, I thought we'd at least have become _famous _before you had us spiralling into a train-wreck hot-mess nightmare.**

"Ok, this is beyond the Dali realms of surreal. I'm going to close my eyes and this…this whole twilight zone or _whatever_ moment will be over."

Kurt shut his eyes and counted back in his mind: _Five, four, three, tw-_

**You can shut your eyes, but you know damn wellI'm not going anywhere.**

Kurt sighed, peeling open his eyes and resigning himself to the fact that after this crazy-ass week, he'd finally succumbed to legitimate crazy-ass behaviour.

**Seriously, how have you managed to screw up so much in just one week? Were you trying t-**

"_Believe me _I was not trying to-"

**Did I say I was finished?**

"No but-"

**Well then let a Diva finish his monologue!**

Kurt rolled his eyes at his reflection, "Am I really this much of an ass?"

**Uh, yeah, actually. A _massive _ass.**

"Not a '_massive' _ass."

Mirror Kurt glared at him.

_Huh… so that's what I look like when I_ _bitch glare someone_ he thought bemusedly. _No wonder I made that freshmen cry_.

Kurt sighed. This was seriously weird, and he was possibly going to need therapy later, but for now, it seemed like Mirror Kurt had _something _he wanted to get off his chest. Hearing him out was probably going to be the only way he'd get rid of the delusion.

"Ok so I'm a '_massive ass'. _Fine. Seriously, is there a point?"

**Duh, of course. **

Kurt paused, pondering.

**Even before the party, you had doubts about Sebastian. And you're _seriously _having them now. Why don't you just swallow your pride and face the fact that your boyfriend is a scumbag. Go grovel to Blaine for being a _ginormous ass _and not believing him when he's the one you should have believed without a second's hesitation.**

"_Hey!_ I still don't know for certain Sebastian tried to do anything at all! And besides _Blaine's _the one who's been acting weird and keeping secrets from me. For weeks he's been distant and then he shows up at my party after saying he was far too sick to come and…and shows up dressed all…all…"

**Hot?**

Kurt glared at the smirking reflection. "_Not Blaine_… and with some random guy. Whoever this Jeremiah is…he's obviously trouble. I'll figure things out with Sebastian…either way. And Blaine well…he'll come around…"

His reflection gave him the most pitying of expressions, looking as if he wanted to reach out and pat Kurt on the shoulder.

_Condescending_ _asshole,_ Kurt thought, huffing and stabbing his fingers into the pot of moisturizer before closing his eyes and smoothing the creamy mixture under them.

There was a long silence and Kurt took a deep, even breath, believing the hallucination had finally gotten bored with tormenting him and left. Opening his eyes, Kurt's shoulders sagged as Mirror Kurt gazed at him, head tilted to the side in contemplation.

"_What?"_

**You really don't see do you?**

Kurt sighed exasperated, slamming the pot down, "See _what?"_

He smiled at him cryptically, and said two more words before settling back into sync the way a reflection should be.

**You'll see.**

…

Crazy isn't thinking your reflection can talk to you, (an occurrence which Kurt had eventually attributed to sleep deprivation or hairspray poisoning) _crazy, _as it turned out, was hosting Cheerleading Sectionals in your school's own gymnasium.

Every member of the student population, as well as crowds of supporters for the competing schools' squads, the Lima Heights Sharks and the Westerville Wranglers, were crammed to the nosebleed rows of the bleachers. Well, all except for the New Directions, who were out scouring Lima for Finn, who'd failed to return all night. Kurt would have been one of them, but having received a message from his step-brother to let him know he was at least alive, Kurt was satisfied to let his friends go.

Of course this now meant that there were no New Directions, no Burt, Carole or Finn in the audience.

No Blaine.

Kurt had been holding on to the small hope that Blaine might have made an appearance since he hadn't missed a single one of Kurt's meets since the age of seven when they'd become friends. That including the time he'd had chicken pox and had snuck out and infected half the school just to be there for Kurt. But when Kurt arrived at the gym, there was no familiar car parked in the lot and no bowtied and bespeckled boy in the bleachers.

There was only going to be one person out there for him, and he'd failed to make his appearance yet, although Kurt had sent him several text messages to check. Kurt felt a sense of guilt claw at him, because while he did have some pretty heavy doubts about his boyfriend, he couldn't help but want _someone _to be out there for him. Even if that someone had possibly drugged him and broken a decade-long friendship.

_Well, at least after today I'll know for sure one way or the other, _Kurt thought as he sat carefully applying a series of appliqué silver studs to his face, smiling at the elaborate make up, his black shiny lips and Smokey eyes. The effect was startling, exactly as he'd pictured in his mind.

Kurt and the Cheerios were ensconced in the choir room, putting the finishing touches on their own hair and make-up while Kurt did the rounds, diligently adjusting the uniforms (well, costumes really by this point) he'd designed himself. It was when Kurt was tugging on the hem of Sugar's skirt and berating her for managing to wear it high enough that she looked like a granddad and low enough to … when he noticed Sue's squishy-faced henchman, Howard.

Kurt could see in Sugar's mirror that he was holding something behind his back and talking quietly to Sue. He couldn't explain why, but Kurt felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He moved down the line to Cheerio standing closest to the duo, pretending to adjust her hair as he listened to their conversation.

"Yeah, I put together the equipment like you told me, but…there was an extra bar left over," Howard said, dangling the item he'd been holding in front of Sue: a long studded black pole with _safety bar_ marked on it in florescent yellow paint.

"…do you think it's important?"

_No…freaking…way…_

Sue swiped the pole, twirling it in her hands like a baton. "Nah, the Swedish are infamous for over-filling their boxes, just like their promiscuous European sisters in the red-light district."

Kurt turned on the pair, shaking his head violently. "Oh _no! _There is absolutely _no _way I'm getting into that death trap!"

"Oh, sweet Porcelain, death is only a _possibility_ if you get up there. It's an _inevitability _if you don't." She gave him a vicious poke with the steel rod, making him stumble. Kurt was about to absolutely lose it, despite the likelihood that it would probably land him in a lake wearing concrete stilettos, when Sue leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Besides, _I'm_ the one writing your college recommendation letter and I'd _hate _to inform them of your cowardice and lack of team spirit."

Chuffing him on the chin, she strode out of the room. Kurt's face turned a deathly shade of white. He wasn't aware that he'd begun to hyperventilate until hands were holding his shoulders firmly and Mercedes was telling him to _breathe. _

"Kurt, go to your happy place! You're floating on an ocean… There are three seas: cool, calm, collected."

"Oh _screw_ 'cool calm collected' to the wall!" Kurt spat, shaking her hands off him and practically shrieking, "'Cool calm collected' is a capsizing ship, and I'm cannon-balling right into a whirlpool of _crazy,_ _carnage,_ and _chaos!_"

Santana stepped forward and slapped Kurt clean across the face. "Kurt! You _needs _to get a grip! Those Lima Heights sharks can smell blood in the water, and you're flopping to pieces like a hot mess in some wanky teen slasher!" Kurt gaped wide-eyed at Santana as she plucked silver appliqué studs off her palm

(castaways from Kurt's face).

"Walruses are more bloodthirsty than sharks. They're ocean vampires," Brittany chimed in obliviously as she finished gluing on her white feather eyelashes.

Santana nodded as if that was the most logical statement ever voiced, and Kurt flopped down in an empty chair, completely deflated. It was as if he'd become detached from all sense and logic. He was utterly losing it: so numb, resigned, and full of dread that he couldn't even feel Mercedes rubbing his shoulder as she asked what had happened.

"Hey Kurt, you betta get yo-self together and not screw this up fo us! The whole school is watching!" Becky piped up from his side, like Kurt needed a reminder that he was potentially about to fall to his death in front of all of McKinley.

Santana overheard and sauntered over. She looming over Becky, stabbing her shoulder with a manicured fingernail, "Speaking of walruses who suck,_ Becky, _did you find your missing chromosomes yet?"

"Yu-huh, in the gutter, along with your panties, ho," she snapped back, and Mercedes had to turn her attention from comforting Kurt to holding back the fiery Latina. If Kurt weren't so terrified and broken, he might laugh, because Santana "going all Lima Heights" on someone was something of a pre-show tradition.

Santana leered over the tiny blonde, spitting, "You piece of-"

"Come on 'Tana you need to stretch," Mercedes left Kurt to do damage control, tugging on their friend's arm and dragging her to the door. "Stretch _her_ over a rack!" Santana cried as she left, and the majority of the squad followed her out. With shaking hands, Kurt re-affixed the detailing on his face as he pondered his options.

On one hand, he could perform on almost certainly faulty equipment, plummet to his death, and maybe take out a few Cheerios on the ground at the same time. On the other hand, he could run away, right now, change his identity, and move into a nunnery (which would have the added bonus of solving his boy troubles).

_I already have a girl's voice, and I could totally work a habit; plus, I'd get to live out my secret "Sister Act" fantasy! _

Kurt had actually reached the point of googling directions to New York convents on his iPhone when he stopped and sighed exasperatedly. Where was Blaine when Kurt needed him? In a crisis, he was logical, calm, and pulled Kurt away from these ludicrous trains of thought.

_So much for Blaine's promise_: _'__**I will never leave you**__,' _Kurt thought with a dull ache he couldn't quite locate.

"_What _are you doing?" he said out loud to himself.

"Bringing you roses."

Kurt looked up, his heart faltering as he caught the glimpse of a large pair glasses peeking out over an elaborate bouquet of red roses.

"_Blaine?" _Kurt asked, twisting around quickly. His face dropped when he saw bleached blonde hair peeking out of a woolen cap and a smile wider and creepier than the Joker's.

"You have no _idea_ how many people confuse the name Chandler with "Blaine"! You're like the sixth person to call me that today!" a cloyingly cheerful and enthusiastic voice rang out as the boy with the flowers strode over to him, grinning like some demented pixie.

"Now, all joking aside, I have been tasked by my employer to deliver these _fabuloso _flowers to _Mr. Kurt Hummel! _TheCheerio's lead singer, slash dancer, and unanimously voted best-dressed two years running on my little contribution to the blogosphere _Chandler-lier_. _It's a pun on 'chandelier'," _he stage-whispered at the end as he thrust the flowers at Kurt. Kurt gawked at the boy, eventually taking the roses and plucking out a small white envelope.

The boy continued to chatter animatedly (like, honestly, Kurt was pretty sure this guy was a cartoon character) as Kurt read the note silently:

_Hey Babe, can't make it. _ _Will make it up to you. _ _Seb x_

Kurt saw red, and it wasn't just from the tacky-as-taffeta roses. Looking up, he was certain he could see his reflection _laughing _at him, and he flipped out, throwing the entire arrangement violently at the mirror. It knocked over several bottles of lotions and open pots of glitter, which spilt out over the floor like blood splatters.

"Whoa! Trouble in paradise? I had this boyfriend once who-"

Kurt _growled _(literally, like some feral teen wolf) and the boy jumped, uttering a squeaky, "Well… I'm going to skedaddle!" before making a beeline for the door.

Kurt stood, shaking right to his core, forcing his eyes shut in a vain attempt not to let tears coarse down his face.

_You are so STUPID! _he screamed inside his head, balling his fists up, the skin straining to the point he thought it would actually rip open.

_This is what you deserve for hurting Blaine, for not believing him. And now you're all alone, are you happy? _Kurt berated himself internally, wanting to slap himself.

There was no way he was going out there now. He was already turning towards the door when his panting, flannel-covered father walked through it.

"Hey, Kurt!" he practically bellowed.

"_Dad_?" Kurt cried out, surprised, blinking rapidly at him. "Oh my god! You're _here_! You actually made it!"

Kurt flung his arms around his father, shaking and gulping as he tried really, _really _hard not to burst into floods of tears.

"Jeez kiddo! I've been gone a week!" Burt laughed, hugging him back hard, squeezing Kurt tightly against his warm, familiar and solid body.

"I know but…no one's here Dad! Finn's run off somewhere and the New Directions are looking for him. Sebastian… I _don't _even want to talk about him… And Blaine…Oh, _Dad, _we had this huge fight and I haven't seen him and we haven't spoken all week and, and…" Kurt flung his arms around his father, shaking and gulping as he tried really, _really _hard not to burst into floods of tears.

"Hey buddy, hey! Calm down!" Burt said, gripping and then patting his back. He held Kurt until the shaking subsided before pulling back and gripping his shoulders ferociously.

"Ok first, I found Finn. He was sleeping in his car in the parking lot of Taco Bell," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh, how'd you..?" Kurt began to ask, but Burt cut him off with a shrug. I know where guys go when they're heartbroken." Kurt actually laughed in spite of himself.

"Anyway he's off makin' up with that daffy chick with the loud voice now. Said he's sorry he couldn't make it and that he's _sorry _for everything. But anyway, what's this about you and Blaine?"

Kurt sagged in his grip, the momentary respite ending far too soon. Gulping air, he stared down at his shoes, shuddering as a few stray fat droplets fell from his eyes, like rain falling unimpeded to the earth.

"Kurt, buddy, hey!" Burt said, pulling him in for a softer hug, hands rubbing soothingly into his son's shoulder blades. "He's _never_ going to speak to me again, Dad," Kurt stated slowly, resignation clear in his tone.

Kurt was surprised by how far away and small his own voice sounded in that moment; it was almost like he'd stepped out of his own body. And that was the moment when he realised two things at once: Blaine had been right, (_Of course was right, and you are __**such **__an idiot! _Kurt thought, shame painting his skin crimson) but Kurt was right too. Blaine would never speak to him again… and Kurt deserved it.

"Come on Kurt, you guys have…ok, no, I don't think I've ever actually seen you fight… jeez, that's a miracle, 'cause you're more argumentative then those frickin' Kardashon gals you keep makin' us watch."

"_Kardashian's_," Kurt said emphatically, crossing his arms over his chest_. "_And seriously, you call this _helpful_?_" _he continued, his expression incredulous.

Burt just laughed. "Ok, you're right, not helpful. But look, Kurt, people fight; I used to fight with your mother all the time!"

"But you were _married _to her," Kurt whined, his voice breaking a little towards the end. Burt clapped a hand over his son's shoulder, smiling, about to say something, when Sue interrupted them, gripping Kurt's other shoulder with what felt like steel talons and yanking him away.

"As _touching _a display of familial diversity as this is, and I'm sure some TV station would be delighted to produce this into a mismatched, all-encompassing American sitcom, I'm going to have to prise your gaybie away from suckling on your manboobs. We've got a show to put on!"

"You can't talk to my son like that!" Burt jumped to Kurt's defence, squaring off against the track-suited tyrant.

Kurt pressed his palm worriedly against his father chest, using a soft placating tone. "Dad, it's ok. Go take a seat in the bleachers; we're about to start and… don't worry. I'm ok…" Kurt took a deep long breath. "Well, I mean, I _will_ be ok."

Before he left, Kurt wrapped his arms tightly around his father, feeling the familiar fabric of his baseball cap press against his cheek, wafting the comforting scent of motor oil and fabric softener. As he strode towards the gymnasium, the muffled sound of hundreds of voices and music filling his ears, Kurt finally began to believe that with his dad out there rooting for him, maybe things really would be ok.

…

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the seven-time reigning national cheerleading champions… the McKinley High Cheeriooooos!"

Kurt held his breath, counting each beat of his heart in the silent room.

One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven…

The first spotlight hit Santana, illuminating her sinuous form, wrapped tightly in shimmering black and red. She hung suspended above the crowd on a thick length of floor-to-ceiling satiny red ribbon. She descended like a fallen angel, her sultry voice filling the gymnasium:

"Oh you're filthy…" The second spotlight lit Brittany, startling in shimmering white, her blond hair pointing to the ground as she slid head-first down a parallel length of ribbon. The fabric coiled around her thigh as she cascaded, glittering like a shooting star she sang sweetly: "_Gorgeous…" _ The lights went out again entirely before they reached the ground, plunging the cavernous room into opaque darkness. Kurt reached for Mercedes' hand, and they fluttered their fingers against each other the way they always did right before a performance. With hands on hips, their postures oozed attitude as a stream of light slowly illuminated them. McKinley's brass band began to play.

The duo's spotlight slowly grew, spreading out in front of them to create crisp silhouettes of their bodies, feet tapping to the persistent baseline. Eventually, the light began to fill the entire gymnasium as one by one, an army of Cheerios came to stand in perfect formation behind Kurt and Mercedes. Together, they turned on their heels, finally facing the crowd, and began to march down the aisle created by the band.

Kurt licked the surface of his glossy black lips with a quick flick of his tongue. The opening was his, and his heart was fluttering wildly in his chest. After days of fluffing his lines and missing his steps, his confidence was battered. Kurt began to feel the return of his own clawing doubt…

But the music coursed through his veins like electricity, turning on something deep and innate in his body as he began to move automatically, the choreography ingrained into his limbs after weeks of practice and years of training. They were same moves Blaine had walked in on Kurt rehearsing only a couple of weeks ago.

At that memory, Kurt's eyes darted around the room, searching for Blaine one final time, but he was nowhere to be seen. But Burt was there, beaming so broadly at him, so obviously proud, that Kurt squared his shoulders, drew in a long, deep breath, and searched for the words:

"When you're walkin' down the street,  
>And the man tries to get your business,<br>And the people that you meet,  
>Want to open you up like Christmas.<br>You gotta wrap your fuzzy with a big red bow -"

Santana and Brittany flanked him on either side wrapping red ribbon that matched those of their entrances around his waist. Turning a triple backwards somersault, Kurt slipped out of the ribbon, which Brittany and Santana then unraveled to reveal white glittering letters: **McKinley High Cheerios!**

"_Ain't no sum (**drum beat) **gonna treat me like a ho!  
>I'm a classy, honey, kissy, huggy, lovey, dovey ghetto princess!"<em>

Kurt jumped, turning 180 degrees and landing heavily on his heels with his legs spread open, running his hands up and down his ribs and waist like a child in middle school pretending to make out with someone. The trio consisting of Mercedes, Brittany, and Santana rejoined Kurt as he ended on a high kick, punctuated by Becky on the xylophone. He took a breath, grinning because he'd actually done it! Kurt Hummel had _finally _re-established his groove.

The rest of the number flowed on seamlessly. Mercedes took the helm on the chorus while the other three did backing vocals, circling around her with fast, twisting dance moves while her rippling vocals resounded broadly. Brittany was pure _magic _when she danced. It was as if the ground had less friction than ice when she moved, full of grace and power.

Her leg kicked high, and she arched back, her body bending like a crescent moon. Santana reached for her hands, spinning her on the spot, and then Brittany twisted around and flipped over Santana's shoulder. Kurt grinned as the crowd gasped. While he _loved _to be the center of attention, it was better to be a part of a team, working off each other's strengths and relishing with pride in his friends talent. It's why he stuck with Glee, even when Sue commanded him to quit; these teams were his family.

The girls tangoed with complicated and frenzied steps while the rest of the Cheerios danced in regimented lines like the worlds sexiest army as Mercedes brought the house down with her incredible voice.

Despite his building fear of the big finish, Kurt was surprised to find that he was actually enjoying himself. The crowd was going wild as Cheerios were flipped into the air, cartwheeling and shimmering in their glitter-accented uniforms like fireworks.

And Kurt was right there in the thick of it. For the first time in in what must have been an eternity, he felt like he was regaining some semblance of himself, about who he was and where he was meant to be.

Well, until the two trampolines were brought forward.

They were held by nervous-looking Cheerios, gripping the steel edges until their knuckles turned white.

_Hell, they __**should **__look nervous, _Kurt thought, sweat beading on his forehead. During practice Kurt had failed to make this move more times than he'd been able to successfully land it, so either Kurt would pull this off and shine like a star, or he'd miss and almost certainly maim himself for life. Unlike rehearsal, there was no safety net to catch him this time; only the skinny Cheerios still dancing in formation below.

Kurt tore off his headset, handing the small microphone to Sugar as he blew a kiss to the audience and ran straight for the first taut trampoline, somersaulting onto it. He bounced off it, the centrifugal force propelling him to mirror the move as he landed on the second circle. Kurt soared through the wide expanse of space and caught the edge of a large silver-edged hoop by his knees, suspended high in the heavens.

Kurt's big finish was mostly inspired by the _Sparkling Diamond _sequence in Moulin Rouge. Bellow him the Cheerios routine became simpler, their backs to the audience as they swayed, shaking their asses so the pleats of their skirts shimmied, hands resting on each others' backs. Mercedes led the vocals as Brittany and Santana flanked her, draping themselves around her, whining and hissing the backing vocals, while up in the sky Kurt shone like a star.

His liquid limbs contorted into inconceivable shapes, resting in the curve like he was sitting on the moon, swinging around, looping and coiling like a snake as he thread himself through the hoop like he was boneless. For a split second, he looked like he was going to drop to the ground, but he caught himself at the last moment by his ankle. The crowd gasped over the swell of the music, but Kurt just swung back up into the sky. Kurt Hummel was literally defying gravity.

Over the last chorus, an explosion of confetti and glitter fell from the air above Kurt like sparks from a comet. He closed his eyes on instinct to avoid the tiny flakes as the music swelled to a climax. Kurt's final move was to drop to his armpits and hang like a crucifix, timed to land right on the last note.

And that was it: months of practice boiled down to just three minutes and forty-seven seconds.

Applause erupted around the room, a thunderous roar loud enough to shake the foundations of the building as Kurt opened his eyes, gasping for air and gazing at the sea of hands, utterly awed. He scanned the room, searching for his father's face in the bleachers, bewildered by the overwhelming cacophony of noise, movement and indecipherable faces.

Then, astonishingly, his eyes caught a familiar glint of gold, a singular point of light, sharp and blinding. A beacon in the haze.

_Blaine. _

Blaine with his wide and _beautiful _golden eyes, staring right at Kurt.

"You came..." Kurt whispered to himself over the noise of the raucous roaring crowd.

Kurt's stomach lurched all of a sudden… no, his entire body jerked, a shiver shaking him to his core. Something snapped and he felt sudden vertigo surge through his nerves, lurching his body like someone had cut the cables in an elevator.

_Oh god, the safety bar… _he remembered, his mind suddenly locking onto the image of the steel rod in Sue's hands.

Panicking, his eyes snapped shut, and Kurt felt the earth fall out from under him as he plummeted.

.

.

.

Air rushed over his face.

.

.

.

His entire body went numb.

.

.

.

Everything slipped out of his control.

.

.

.

And Kurt knew for certain he was going to die when images of his life began flashing before his eyes: a rapid succession of fleeting images… and Blaine was in every frame.

.

.

.

.

.

Blaine's hand slipping from his in the park as he fell into the stream.

.

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Blaine's golden eyes peeking at him over the rim of a coffee cup at the Lima Bean.

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Blaine's brow furrowed in concentration over a textbook as they studied.

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Blaine's body lying beside his as they gazed up at the stars on his bedroom ceiling.

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Blaine's lips, shining and pink…

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And so close, so _tangible, _that he could just reach out and…

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And still the audience clapped.

_Why aren't they screaming? _

_Why I aren't I road kill?_

_What the hell's going on!_

Kurt pried open his eyes tentatively, peeking out between the small openings and feeling momentarily disoriented. Everything was exactly where it had been the moment he'd clamped his eyes shut. The audience still undulated below him, and the Cheerios jumped and hugged each other far below. Eventually Kurt realised with shock that he was still holding onto the hoop, still high up in the air.

_But... but I fell?_

Confusion quickly gave way to clarity when his eyes locked again on Blaine.

The image you see in a mirror might seem like the real thing, but it's a deception: a perfect duplicate. Looking at Blaine now, it was as if Kurt's entire perspective had flipped, as if up until this moment, he'd been staring at the cold glass of Blaine's reflection. A perfect replica, but not _him. _

And now…

_Now_ it was like the mirror had exploded, shattering into billions of tiny pieces. _Now _Kurt turned to see the boy who'd been staring into the mirror, the _true_ Blaine. The Blaine that had been there all along on the other side of the glass. Warm, solid and heartbreakingly beautiful.

Kurt had an earth-shattering revelation as silver confetti and glitter continued to flutter in front of his face like fragments of the broken mirror, reflecting his stunned face.

Kurt had fallen all right.

Kurt had fallen in love with Blaine.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter sixteen:

Kurt panted, gasping like a recently beached merman. Within the space of mere seconds, a friendship that had spanned over half his entire life had been entirely flipped upside down.

There Blaine stood staring straight up at Kurt, his large golden eyes wide as he clapped, the effort making his glasses slip down his nose. Even as Blaine pushed them back up the bridge of his nose he never broke eye contact with Kurt.

Could Blaine _tell_ what he was thinking? Kurt wondered, feeling more than a little queasy.

While Kurt pondered this possibility a tall man, someone's father he assumed moved past Blaine, at last forcing them to break eye contact. A small throng of people, most likely his family moved along behind him. Once they'd gotten past, Kurt his stomach bottom out for the second time in five minutes seeing that Blaine's seat had been vacated.

With the trance broken Kurt hoisted himself up, shimmying his ass onto the curve of the hoop and giving himself a better vantage point to scope the gym. Craning his neck in every direction he scanned the room for Blaine but couldn't find him anyway.

Kurt began to wonder if he'd just witnessed some kind of mirage, (not out of he question given his recent inclination towards hallucinating) when he saw him. Blaine was moving towards the exit, brushed aside by a small stampede of teenage girls running past him and Kurt felt the familiar urge to protect him.

"_Blaine_…?" Kurt called quietly, his voice lost amongst the rambling excitement of the crowd bellow. But Blaine had gone.

Kurt wanted to follow him but he couldn't, not hung up in the air like he was. And honestly, even if he was on the ground, even if there wasn't a mass of people blocking his path, he wondered if he would.

It was all just too much right now, what with everything that had happened and now to realise he was _in love _with Blaine… he needed some time and space to put his feelings in order. Not that he'd be getting that any time soon.

Finally he snapped out of his reverie when he felt the slow crank, the hoop slowly began to low, causing his to twist in the air as he was slowly lowered to the ground. For the first time he looked down to the ground seeing his friends jumping around on the spot, hugging each other for dear life and still infused with adrenaline from their performance.

A couple of the faces gazed back up at him, waving their hands animatedly and Kurt responded with a faint flex of his fingers. Once he'd close enough to the ground to jump down he was taken by surprise as his ankles were yanked and he fell tumbling into the arms of his fellow Cheerio's, chanting with him on their shoulders: "_Kurt_! _Kurt_! _Kurt_! _Kurt_!"

His body was shaken as they bounced up and down, marching him and themselves out of the gym and into the hallway. They finally deposited him on the ground next to a bank of lockers, where Mercedes pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "Kurt! Kurt! That was amazing, seriously you were incredible!"

Next to them Santana was waving her arms up in the air like a warrior crying out, "We _nailed _it! Those bitches are crapping their spanx!" And even Sugar was sliding in clapping her hands and bouncing on the spot, making a noise like an over excited puppy.

Brittany was, acting… peculiar, even by her standards. "Kurt where's Sebastian, are you hiding him?" she asked lifting his shirt and exposing his milky flushed skin. He shoved it back down roughly and gaped at him. "Huh?! _What_ are you doing Britt? I'm into hiding him under my shirt, he didn't come. Look it doesn't matter-"

"But he had to have come. You danced better than you have all week. How could you have done that without the special drink?" Brittany said wrinkling her nose in confusion.

Kurt bristled, his blood running cold inside his body as he stared silently at Brittany. Cocking his head to the side, eyes narrowed at the girl with the soft vacant expression he asked slowly, enunciating each syllable, "…I'm sorry can you repeat that?"

"The… oh wait I wasn't supposed to say. Sebastian said it wouldn't work if I told you about the potion he put in your drink. The one that gives you energy and makes you dance better. I saw him do it at the party but he said it had to be a secret or it wouldn't work. But well I guess it doesn't matter because we already performed and you danced great anyway."

Somehow, Kurt managed not to explode. Despite the surging earthquake rippling in his body, hard enough to shatter his bones, make his skin burn, his teeth grind and his fists clench and curl, he held onto the particles that kept his body together.

Brittany as simple as she was seemed to pick up on these nuisances though and asked timidly, "Kurt. What's wrong? You have the same look my baby sister gets before she punches my dad."

Mercedes must have felt a tremor or something in the ground because she was walking over hands out in a calming, _please put the knife down and let's talk about this _kind of gesture. "_Kurt.._" she said slowly.

"Give. Me. Your. Keys," he pronounced each word in turn.

"_Kurt _I don't know what's happened but you need to breath and calm-"

"Give me your keys!" he spat out again, shaking.

"Kurt I love you but you're acting cray cray, so there is no way in Lima hell you're driving anywhere until you calm it! Now tell me what happened."

Kurt was about five seconds from utterly loosing it when a hand clamped on his shoulder pulling him into a tight bear hug.

"Kurt! You freakin' knocked that out of the park!"

"Giff meeth your keesh," he muttered into the flannel, pushing away with his palms.

Burt held him back with his hands on his shoulders, concern burrowed in the lines of his eyes and forehead. "You're not making any sense kid. Slow down and-"

"_DAD! GIVE ME YOUR DAMN KEYS!" _Kurt shouted, shaking and balling his fists at his sides.

"Watch your mouth! And tell me what the hell's gotten into-"

Kurt caught sight of glinting silver in his pocket and snatched the keys, bolting through the crowd towards the door. Somewhere is the haze were the calls of his father, Mercedes and maybe more. But Kurt couldn't have told you what a single one had said. He threw himself into his father's truck and screeched out of the car park, turning in the direction of Dalton.

…..

No one in the universe would argue that Rachel Berry isn't the self appointed Queen of the storm out. Kurt was pretty certain she was literally born that way, storming out of the birth canal. What few people realise is that Kurt Hummel is and always will be the King and Queen of the storm in.

Marching through the dorm hallways he pushed past a baby faced freshman carrying a stack of papers that exploded and fluttered in the air like fragments from a bomb. The boy might have been about to protest but after he caught sight of Kurt's expression (sassy terminator for the record) he scuttled under a nearby oak table until the coast was clear.

The crowds got thinner the closer Kurt got to Sebastian's room, dwindling until it was just Kurt and his thunderous footsteps echoing in the hallways.

As Kurt approached his soon to be ex-boyfriends door, he began to yell even before his hand touched the cool metal of the handle. "_Sebastian! _We need to t-" Kurt howled knocking one of the striped Dalton ties off as he flung the door open hard enough for it to slam loudly against the wall.

"_Seb_! You said you locked the door!" the terrified voice of an unclad Warbler peeled around the small room. Kurt watched incredulously as a blonde haired boy (who he'd clocked as 'out of a box' the moment he'd seen him at the Lima Bean a month ago) scuttle to retrieve his clothes strewn over the bed and floor.

With a cruel twist of his lips Kurt let out a derisive laugh, nearly snorting with contention. "Wow, _bravo_ Sebastian. You've managed to revive the 80's teen movie asshole. Way to resurrect a tired stereotype."

Sebastian just grinned at him, infuriating Kurt further. He didn't even have a shred of shame as he stretched out on his bed shirtless. Kurt strode up to Sebastian as the boy (Jeff he remembered at last) scuttled past in his hastily thrown on clothes, with just enough clarity to shut the door as he left. "You're one to talk babe, with that lipstick you look like you've stepped off a pride float."

Kurt slapped him. One vicious blow right across his smug, soulless face. A livid splotch of red blossomed on his face.

"Over reaction much? Sorry you had to find out this way but you must of known it was coming," he gawped at Kurt, smiling. _Smiling! _It was possibly the most audacious expression Kurt had ever seen. Sebastian stood up, slowly stroking the sting on his face.

"You _drugged _me you despicable leech!"

Sebastian's expression wavered. "And who told you that? Blainey? The guy's clearly jealous babe," he said, slithering slowly forwards. "Come sit and calm down." Sebastian reached out a hand, circling it around Kurt's waist.

"Don't _touch _me!" Kurt spat, shoving Sebastian as he jolted backwards, knocking into a lamp. "I came here to tell you we're over, not that it matters apparently, seeing as you're slutting about in the gutter with goldicocks anyway." He took a deep breath lowering his voice and glaring at the boy his heart had once fluttered over, "After I leave here I'm going to the police and telling them what you did."

Any trace of humour left Sebastian's face in an instant as his eyes narrowed, the mocking jeer curling into a cruel sneer. "Ok Kurt, I get that it must have ruined your delicate pride to see first hand that I've moved on. So I've indulged this little tantrum out of courtesy, but if you think for a minute that anyone's going to believe this ridiculous little fantasy then you're a _fool_."

"Brittany saw you spike my drink!"

"And Brittany has less IQ points than eyeballs. No-one is going to believe her."

"And Blaine. He saw you-"

"Putting my drunk boyfriend to bed. _Nothing _happened," Sebastian countered, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Face it Kurt, you haven't got a leg to stand on. And let's not forget, my dad's the states attorney, after he has your case laughed out of the station I'll have him charge you with slander. So by all means, go down to the station and tell them whatever you want because _no one _is going to believe you."

Kurt gaped open mouthed at Sebastian, words failing him. There was always some kind of comeback itching to leave Kurt's lips, but right now the only words were inside his head.

Say something! Say anything! Don't let him win!

But Kurt knew he'd already lost. So did Sebastian.

He began to snigger quietly as Kurt turned to leave. With one last surge of anger, split halfway between himself and Sebastian Kurt swept the lamp off his nightstand with a sweep of his arm before walking out of his dorm room for the last time.

…..

**Tooooooold yah! **

Kurt almost swerved his dad's truck when he heard the disturbingly familiar voice coming from just above him. When he reluctantly looked up he saw that his hallucinatory little friend had remerged in the glass, grinning at him in the Cheerio's make up like the Joker. Just exponentially more creepy.

If this happened any more frequently Kurt might have to finally swallow his fear and actually step foot in a hospital. Groaning outwardly he replied, "You did _not. _You were cryptic and… oh god, I can't believe I'm doing this again…"

**I _so _did! You can't deny it:**

**A.) I told you he was a scumbag.**

**And B.) Well… **

He grinned impishly.

**I said you'd see.**

Flicking his eyes from the road to the glass Kurt caught sight of his reflection winking at him and he huffed dramatically. "_Urgh! _Just… just be quiet! I'm trying to drive."

Of course the apparition took no notice whatsoever of this request.

**So, where are we going?**

He practically sang the notes in this sentence.

"Home," Kurt replied, his voice short and clipped.

**Seriously? _Seriously?! _**

"_What_? You sound like Meredith Grey," Kurt chided pulling up to a set of traffic lights.

**_Pfft, _if anything I'm Izzy Stevens. But seriously… _seriously? _What do you mean you're going home? I can't believe you finally, _finally, _work out you're in love with Blaine… and you're just going to go home!**

His double shook his head exasperated, an expression Kurt was ironically mirroring himself.

**You _swooned_.**

"_Swooned?!" _Kurt gaped, his eyebrows leapin up his forehead as he idled at the junction.

You thought you'd fallen thirty feet, if that's not swooning well-

"Fine! Fine!" Kurt snapped giving in, "Look, I need to wrap my head around all of this, I can't just walk up to him and say _I love you _can I?_"_

**Well obviously not. First you're going to have to apologise. Grovel too come to think of it. Don't forget, you've been a massive ass. **

Kurt shot a glare at his reflection, but sighed. It was true and perhaps his two-dimensional self was onto something. Stoically he continued.

**But then you lay your heart out there, confess your undying love, maybe even quote a little Celine Dion. Then you run into each others arms and…**

Mirror Kurt leaned forward, pressing right up against the glass and obscenely kissed it, the pink interior of his lips opening wide and wiping over the surface. Kurt blanched at the spectacle, interrupted by the sound of a honking horn.

Cursing under his breath Kurt shifted into drive and drove past the now green light. As he drove forwards he caught sight of his apparition drying off the mirror with an embroidered handkerchief.

**So I think you'll find I have outlined your plan of attack as follows: _Apologise, Grovel, Confess, Kiss… Apologise, Grovel, Confess, Kiss… Apologise! Grovel! Confess! Kiss!_**

It quickly became a chant, his voice becoming louder and louder until Kurt couldn't take it any longer. Kurt was just shy of north Lima as he pulled over into a side street, slamming his foot on the brake and making the image of himself slam up against the glass. He turned off the ignition, cutting out the noise of his dad's truck in one motion.

**_Ouch_! Why are we stopping? I can't believe- **

"_Shut up!_ _SHUT UP!" _Kurt yelled abruptly. "I can't hear myself think when you're bleating at me!" Kurt panted, his heart hammering and his hands gripping the steering wheel until his fists stood out stark white and taut against the black leather.

Kurt rested his forehead against the cool hard curve of the steering wheel as he tried to process the barrage of thoughts racing through his mind. Eventually he leaned back against the headrest, his eyes closed and he mumbled quietly, "What if he doesn't want to see me? What if he won't forgive me? What if he doesn't want me?"

There was a long silence. Kurt drew in a long breath his eyes opening slowly as he focussed on his own image watching him, identical except for his soft expression.

Isn't Blaine worth the risk?

In the end, Kurt realised this was the only question he should be concerned with and he found the answer came easy.

Restarting the car he drove in the direction of Blaine's home.

…..

Kurt was close enough to the glass wall of the Lima Bean window that his breath had misted the pane. Humid and warm, it moved steadily out of his lips as he scanned the bar for Blaine.

Although he still begrudged the apparition of himself, a mix of genuine worry for his own sanity and irritation because dammit, was he really like this with everyone? It was a wonder he had any friends at all if so. _Anyway, _despite his irritation with his two dimensional counterpart, he had given him some pretty clear instructions to now follow and to some extent it was a comfort.

In his mind he repeated the four parts of his plan as he waited for Blaine to appear.

Apologise. Grovel. Confess. Kiss.

After which he would have to return home, tail between his legs and apologize to his father who was undoubtedly flooding his phone with messages even as he stood. But his phone rested silent and black in his pocket.

At first he'd driven to Blaine's house, but Blaine was not home. Unfortunately for Kurt and the contents of his stomach his brother and Blaine's sister had been. Kurt thought back to their interaction.

From the moment he'd arrived, ditching his car haphazardly in the Anderberry driveway he'd been acutely aware of the pair. Not that they'd been hard to miss, making out enthusiastically as they examined the texture of each other's tonsils on the front porch.

Kurt had sighed exasperated, feeling a little green as he stood over them. "Rachel."

There'd been no response other than more lip smacking wet noises akin to that of a beached walrus.

"_Rachel." _Kurt had tapped her foot with the toe of his sneaker, his tone decadently more frustrated. _No response. _Rachel had either chosen to ignore him or was just far too interested in trying to work out what Finn had had for breakfast.

After this second attempt he'd contemplated vaulting onto Finn's mammoth shoulders and crawling up the trellis like he sometimes did late at night but had decided to at least try a third time, it was generally considered more polite.

"**Rachel!" **he'd bellowed, giving her a not so considerate shove.

"OW!" Finn had bitten her lip and she'd glared at Kurt as if he'd been the one while she rubbed it, her eyes murderous.

"What?"

"Could you _please _stop sucking _my_ brother's face long enough to tell me where _your_ brother is. Is he in his bedroom?" he's asked, his eyes raised heavenward and trying to decide if he should just circumvent decorum and just vault over the horny primates.

Finn had finally seemed to wake from whatever drug induced state he'd been in, looking up at Kurt with wide pupiled eyes and the soppiest grin on his face. "Hey Kurt! Congratulations on the win!"

Kurt had stared at him blankly, taking him far too long to realise he must have been talking about Cheerleading Regionals. "We won?" he'd asked absently, right then it being the least thing he cared about… _well after Sebastian Smythe_ he'd thought vehemently.

"Yeah dude, it's all over Facebook! You didn't know?" he'd asked surprised as Rachel had shifted in his lap, kissing his neck.

"You guys actually managed to stop sucking face long enough to go on Facebook?"

"Had to change our status back to _in a relationship _naturally. Not that that begins to touch on the love we-"

"_Lovely _as it is to hear that you two are back together, really _couldn't_ be happier," he's interjected sarcastically, "But I really _really _need to talk to Blaine. Where is he?"

"He's at work. I – where are you going?" Kurt hadn't had to turn back to know she'd pretty much forgotten the entire encounter, going right back to kissing Finn like they hadn't even stopped. Well Kurt had been pretty sure anyway because as he drove away he was pretty sure the noise of over excited manatees weren't coming from any of the other neighbour's homes.

And so here Kurt was. Staring through the glass at the near deserted shop, late Saturday evening, waiting for the love of his life to appear and repeating his plan over and over in his mind.

_Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss_

_Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss_

_Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss_

_Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss_

Every time he heard the word _kiss _in his mind his heart fluttered heavily in his chest and his toes curled in his shoes. Only a week ago now he'd kissed Blaine in his bedroom, surrounded by friends and as drunk as his aunt Mildred on Valentines Day.

Kurt had felt something then. Well he'd felt a lot of things: anger, jealousy, tingles - right in the tips of his fingers and toes… and eventually something softer, something sweeter, something that had made him kiss Blaine a second time, slower and more chaste, a soft brush that had melted him from the inside out.

Of course _Sebastian _had interrupted them before Kurt had any hope of decoding what the kiss had meant. Causing a catastrophic chain of events that had quickly spiralled out of Kurt's control.

Kurt's felt a tug on his heart. Tangible like a child's hand in his own, pulling at him and trying to get his attention. _There! There! Look! Look, it's Blaine! _Blaine walked behind the bar, carrying a large bag of coffee beans, his shoulders straining under the weight and his glasses tipping down the bridge of his nose.

_He looks exhausted, _Kurt thought, a pang vibrating in his chest as he watched him. All he wanted in that moment was to reach out and slide his glasses back into place, to frame his face with his hands. Absently Kurt stretched out a finger and drew a heart in the condensation, wrapping Blaine inside its lines.

This was it, no more time for hesitation, nothing else standing in his way. Kurt squared his shoulders, swallowed the lump in his throat and walked towards the door.

Blaine looked up smiling with the kind of relief you only get when the person you want to see most in the world is walking towards you. It was a gorgeous and breathtaking sight, the kind of which he could imagine never tiring of.

Maybe Kurt would have been smiling in the same way as well if he'd been the one Blaine was looking at. But he wasn't. Before Kurt had even pressed his palm to the door, a familiar man had leapt out of one of the hidden booths and had made he way right to Blaine.

Kurt watched in excruciating slow motion as Jeremiah pulled the bag out of Blaine's arms and dropped it on the counter. Moving his hand up he pressed Blaine's glasses back into place and wound his arms around Blaine's small waist and lent down, drawing his face to Blaine's.

Kurt turned on the spot, a pale hand flying to his mouth. It felt like he was going to be sick. The kind that had the power to expel your organs out of your body.

Without a backwards glance, without even a word he left, moving quickly.

It occurred to him…

_I'm too late. _

….

It took a few attempts to slide the key into the lock when Kurt eventually got home, his hands shaking as they held the bundle of metal. But soon enough he was twisting the lock open and stepping inside the warm house, shutting the door by pressing the back of his body against it. Kurt's eyes fluttered shut as he took one shaky breath, willing himself to walk up the stairs and crawl into bed.

"Kurt? I swear to _god _if that's you I'm gonna tan your hide and sell it as tyres! You're never too old for a good old fashioned-" Burt yelled, coming into view as he exited the kitchen. However he stopped as he saw Kurt's expression, they way he was just barely propping his body up against the door.

"_Kurt?_" he asked more softly this time, walking tentatively towards him like he was an injured animal.

"…_D-ad…_"

Kurt took a couple of shaky breaths before sliding to the ground and burying his face in his hands. Burt got down on his knees and pulled Kurt in a hug and Kurt finally let the tears fall from his tired eyes as he cried into his flannel covered shoulder.

…

Carole deposited a second cup of camomile tea into Kurt's hand. Before she scuttled out of the room she grazed Kurt's cheek with her thumb and he smiled softly at her saying a quiet, "_thank you._"

Burt was hunched over on the sofa next to Kurt, legs apart and leaning his forearms on his knees as he scrunched his cap in his hands, knuckles taut. "You should try a cup of this dad, it's good for stress," Kurt remarked hoarsely. His throat was still a little tender after spending the last couple hours sobbing and telling Burt the story of the last week, piece by piece.

Over the course of his retelling Kurt had had to tread carefully, reiterating he was fine, nothing had happened, well not _really. _But he and Carole had still had to body block him and calm him down when he'd wanted to bolt for the door and, "Find the bastard and drive my truck over his weasely little neck." With enough infallible logic, patience and genuine concern for his health he'd finally come back to the sofa where he was in Kurt's opinion re-enacting thoughts in his head with his cap playing the role of Sebastian's neck.

"I _knew _that punk kid was trouble Kurt. I never shoulda left," Burt finally said, removing one hand from his hat to drag his palm over his forehead.

"This isn't your fault Dad," Kurt reminded him, uncurling one hand from his mug and laying it on his father's wrist. Burt cocked his head to look at his son and seemed to just stare. After a while he finally took a breath and turned his hand over, taking Kurt's in his own large hand and squeezing it in a vice grip.

"Well all I can say is I'm damn grateful Blaine was there," Burt said at least and Kurt hand went rigid in his grasp, feeling the same vicious kick in his gut as he'd felt earlier when…

Tears misted Kurt's eyes, preposterous considering the deluge which had already rolled down his cheeks tonight. But still they held, just about clinging to his already sticky eyelashes. Burt looked up at Kurt frowning, feeling the tension in his hand and noticing the sad gleam in his son's eyes.

Kurt had skimmed over the details of his and Blaine's fight, completely circumventing his realisation at the tournament and his later discovery at the coffee shop. Even though it had been the catalyst for his meltdown.

"So you gonna tell me what it is now you and Blaine have been fighting about? I do I gotta go over-"

"_No!… _I…" Kurt sighed, pulling his hand out of his dads grasp and running his fingers through his fine chestnut hair. "I'll tell you. Just it's…complicated."

"I've reassembled a transmission, I know about complicated Kurt. Stop stalling,"

Kurt took one last deep breath and began reluctantly, "Well after Blaine and his _friend _got rid of… him, well, Blaine stayed over. To make sure I was safe. But when I woke up the next day, I felt really sick and disoriented. Blaine voice was so loud he was worried, talking about someone putting something in my drink-"

"_Sebastian_,"

"Right, yeah but… I didn't _know_ he was talking about him. The last thing I could remember was… _Jeremiah, _making me some ridiculous drink, with some equally ridiculous cocky expression and I didn't _know_ him so I just, I assumed it was him Blaine was talking about."

Kurt sighed again, averting his gaze from his father, "Well we started to fight… ok I started to fight. I was in pain and Blaine kept saying, it was Sebastian, that I barely knew him and I felt like he was calling me stupid or something and I just kind of snapped and I said something like…_urgh… 'It feels like I barely know you…'"_

Kurt caught a sideways glance at his father, sporting something of a grimace, "Ouch, really Kurt?"

"I know, I know! And we haven't spoken since, every time I try to text or Facebook or call-"

"You didn't think about actually going to _see _him?" he asked a little incredulously.

"That's not how it's done, besides I haven't _seen _him all week, well except for outside Brittany's test but when he heard my voice or something he ran off in the other direction and I didn't even see his face, he wouldn't _look _at me. I thought after that, we were just…done, or however it goes with friends," Kurt muttered reaching out for his tea and sipping slowly.

Kurt tapped the rim of the cup trying to decide if he should just get it over with and spill the whole thing. _Maybe he can help?_

Swallowing his mouthful he replaced the cup on the side and began again, "…there's more."

"Ok Jeeze Kurt…" Burt said a little exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose, obviously expecting something else catastrophic, "_Ok, _shoot."

"Well… I don't know what happened. He didn't come to the tournament and I didn't expect him to but I really, _really _wanted him to. But then you came, so there was at least someone. We performed and it felt incredible, like I was me again. At the end I was hanging in that hoop and…there he was, just sitting in the bleachers."

I just… I couldn't believe he came dad, we hadn't spoken all week, I was a total asshole to him and… he still came," it still felt incredible now for Kurt to think that he'd done that, true to his promise that he'd never leave Kurt.

"I realised that…that… Oh god dad. I realised I'm in love with him!" It came out in a rush and Kurt gasped a little, it was the first time he'd confessed this to anyone. Granted he'd only just realised this fact a few hours ago, but still it felt oddly liberating to get the feeling off his chest.

Burt began to chuckle to himself and Kurt bitch glared his own father. "This… this is _so _not funny! Why are you laughing at me?!" Kurt crossed his arms petulantly over his chest.

"Simmer down Kurt," Burt relaxed a little from his _more bad news _posture. "I _know._" Kurt looked up at him incredulously.

"Huh? What do you mean _you know?_"

"Remember when you came out to me and I told you I'd known since you were three?" he asked Kurt.

"Uhuh, you told me it's because all I wanted for my birthday was a pair of sensible heels. What's that got to do with anything?" Kurt asked sceptically.

"I'm gettin' there, hold your horses kid," Burt tittered. Then he sighed and carried on, "Well I sorta lied to you a little about that." Kurt tilted his face towards his father, wondering where exactly he was going with this. "The truth is, I only _thought _you might be gay then. But I think I _knew _the day you met Blaine."

"_Really?" _Kurt asked softly, eyes a little hazy at the memory.

"Uh huh, you talked about him non-stop kid. And I gotta say he came just in time too, it was hard for both of us Kurt and it helped a lot knowing someone else was around looking out for you," he finished, reaching out slapping Kurt on the shoulder.

Kurt reached for his cup and drained the rest of his tea, contemplating what his father had just told him, _is he right? Have I really loved Blaine all this time? _Eventually he abandoned the cup and asked in a whiny tone, "S-so if you knew I loved him, why didn't you ever _tell_ me?"

Burt shook his head grinning, "_Kurt, _come on half the fun's finding out! When you finally worked it out, did it feel like your gut dropped fifty feet?"

Whoa, has he been reading my mind?

Kurt pursed his lips squinting at his father, he really wouldn't put it past him, "…_Maybe_."

"So what's stopping you going after him? Tell him to meet you on the Empire State Building, go run through a fountain, jump-"

"_Dad," _Kurt began to giggle despite himself, vaguely pleased to realise that his father paid a little more attention during family movie night than he realised.

"You're not really going to give up because of one stupid fight are you? Come on I raised you better than that kiddo! Besides, Blaine's a good kid, he's not gonna hold it against you forever."

Kurt's temporary smile faltered, his eyes dropping a little, "He's met someone else." Kurt took a long deep breath, the memory still jagged in his heart. "After I confronted… well, all I wanted was to see Blaine. I had a plan and I was going to do the big grand _I love you _gesture right in the middle of the Lima Bean. But I got there and he was with that other guy, _Jeremiah… _Blaine looked, _happy_ and I couldn't ruin it for him, not after the way I hurt him. He deserves to be happy… even if it's not with me," Kurt shrugged, flopping back against the sofa.

"Look, don't give up Kurt. Be patient. I lovedyour mother, _so_ much. I didn't think I was capable of giving that kind of love again to a woman. But it's all about timing," he tugged Kurt's head onto his shoulder and carried on, "Carole came to me at the right time. You and Blaine, well, it'll happen when it happens."

"But what if…"

What if it doesn't? What if I'm too late? What if he doesn't even feel that way about me?

"Timing Kurt," he tapped his watch as if trying to drill home the point.

Kurt wasn't going to get much else out of his father that evening so with a yawn he hoisted himself off the couch, stretching a little. "Thanks dad. I think I'm going to go to my room and clean this off," he indicated the streaked make up on his face and hands. "The Pagliacci look is getting a touch morose."

"Well get comfortable in there because starting now that room is your cell for the next week. Don't be thinking I've forgotten your little grand theft auto stunt." Kurt gaped at his father, resisting the urge to fight the matter, he couldn't imagine it would do him any favours. With a sigh he began

"You can go out for school," he stood up, retrieving Kurt's cup to take to the kitchen, "_and _to the police station with me tomorrow. We're turning that son of a bitch in."

….

The kiss was a shock, light and gentle. Blaine smiled touching the place where it's warmth still lingered. With his glasses slid back into place by Jeremiah's careful fingers he looked up, catching a quick flash of movement in the window, a blur of red, white and black.

A familiar ache made his heart skip painfully in his chest but he shook his head. _I'm imagining things._

That's when Blaine noticed it, eyes catching movement, a bead condensation trailing between the curved ridges of a heart drawn in fogged breath on the glass. It built up speed as it trickled down, fracturing the shape until it met the pointed end. _A broken heart _he thought as he watched it, a familiar knot tying in his stomach.

But Jeremiah was there, pulling him into his arms again and Blaine went willingly, leaning his head against his shoulder and closing his eyes. When his hand settled in the small of his back and he felt… _something_.

…..

Author's Note: I say this a lot but we're almost at the end, depending on how it goes there will be one or two more chapters followed by an epilogue. I'll try and get that out soon. Thanks for your comments they're always appreciated and I try to take them into account (ps this was un betaed because she's really busy at the moment bless her, so I'm sure there were many spelling and grammar issues as there were before her!)


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen:

"Blaine! Blaine! We won!"

Blaine turned his head back over his shoulder, alerted by Brittany's now overly familiar and perky voice. She was pressing in between two disgruntled customers, bouncing on the balls of her feet with a smile wide enough that it looked as if it had been drawn from ear to ear. His own curled a little at the corners, the expression making his cheeks ache with the effort.

Blaine wasn't smiling very much these days.

As Blaine twisted the steamer off and slid the wand carefully out of he milk he'd frothed for _disgruntled customer number one's_ cappuccino he said, "I know Brittany, I saw. You were brilliant." And then he mentally kicked himself for admitting to this, watching as her lips stretched into a wide O if surprise. Leaning with her hands against the faux marble counter, she literally bounced up and down like an infant trying to get a better view.

Blaine banged the jug three times before pouring the smooth white milk into the now twitching ladies cup, casting the customer an apologetic smile before trying to convince Brittany to go sit down and wait for him. But Brittany was already there, interrupting before he had a chance to open his mouth, blurting out a barrage of questions:

"What do you mean you saw? You came? But you said there was absolutely no way you'd come watch. Blaine, did you lie? Wait did you see Kurt? Did he-"

"Britt!" Blaine cut in sharply, his throat tightening at the sound of his friend's (could he even still call him that?) name. Resting the near empty jug next to him on the counter with a hollow clatter, he asked Brittany with wide pleading eyes, "If you go sit down, I'll bring you a hot chocolate... and I _promise_ I'll explain – okay?"

Brittany went as still as a statue, only her nose twitching slightly as she appeared to ponder Blaine's proposition. After a while her eyes wandered over to the glass fronted cake counter, filling with the all too familiar look of longing before skittering back to Blaine's own with what really could only be described as puppy eyes. Blaine sighed, smiling a little despite himself, "Aaaand I'll bring you a cupcake. _Deal_?"

Brittany squealed, jumping up over the counter to peck Blaine on the cheek and declaring, "Deal!" In her excitement she knocked over the nearly, but unfortunately not _quite_ empty jug onto the floor (and Blaine's shoes) before turning on her heels and bolting for one of the booths in the back.

Blaine exhaled, turning his attention back to his customer as he dusted a light layer of chocolate over her coffee. Shrugging sheepishly as he slid over her cup he tried to explain, "Sorry about that, she just gets a little… over excited."

The woman's expression seemed to soften at his apology (or possibly the sweet heady steam rising off her cup and curling into her nostrils). She lent forward with an almost conspiratorial smile that Blaine didn't quite understand until she patted his hand and spoke softly, gesturing behind her to Brittany who was now climbing cross legged into the booth. "It's OK dear. My cousin was one of those _retardees_ too."

Blaine blanched at her remark, "She's not-"

But Puck clapped a heavy hand on Blaine's shoulder making him start and loose track of what he was saying, "Dude, the customer's always right." Blaine gave him a scornful look as he grinned back with a mouth full of teeth like a shark.

"Your manager is quite right young man! You could learn a lot about customer service from him if you'd stop mooning after your girlfriend," disgruntled customer number two muttered through a thick moustache as he took the spot of the departing woman.

"That's what I keep trying to tell him, but will he listen?" he said shaking his head, "What can I get you sir?" Blaine turned his back on both of them, reaching for the switch on the coffee grinder and used it's ear splitting noise as a cover to mutter a few choice phrases about Puck's idea of customer service.

...

When there was a lull in customer's Blaine took his break, walking gingerly over to the table Brittany had taken over with a tray

laden with: one hot chocolate (_naturally_ floating with marshmallows), one medium drip for himself and the Lima Bean's most decadent cupcake; the cherry bomb.

As Blaine carefully placed the tray down in front of Brittany, she immediately began a rapid fire of questions:

"So What changed your mind about going?

When did you get there?

Did you see me slide down the ribbon?

Does this have three marshmallows or four marshmallows?"

"Brittany slow down!" Blaine raised his hands before reaching down for his cup and grasping it between both palms, letting the warmth leech into his hands which of late seemed to feel perpetually cold. Brittany followed suit, picking up her own cup delicately and took a loud slurp. The expression _monkey see monkey do _popped into Blaine's head.

"Firstly, there are _four _marshmallows, all pink, _obviously_," he smiled over the rim of his cup as he thought of the reasons for this:

a.) Brittany was more comfortable with even numbers, and-

b.) Pink and white marshmallows can never agree on anything, which leads to bickering and then the drink makes it worse because it gives them a sugar high which makes them fight and then hot chocolate gets everywhere and the mini marshmallow babies are orphans … and maybe Blaine was spending a little _too much_ time with Ms Brittany Pierce.

Blaine took a long drag of the coffee, like it contained liquid courage, "Ok so I've started answering those questions backwards so I'll stick with that direction."

Brittany furrowed her brows in response, asking in a confused tone "Don't you have to be sitting the other way around for that to work?"

For just a moment Blaine found his lips involuntarily curl upwards. Despite his sombre mood he couldn't help but smile at the sheer _Brittanyness_ of Brittany. Honestly, he didn't know where he'd have been without her this week. Or Jeremiah for that matter.

"No Britt," he smiled shaking his head and continued. "I arrived just in time to see you slide down the ribbon, which -just _wow_! Ok, that was, spectacular, well everything Britt, you were... _amazing,_" he finished in awe and Brittany positively beamed with pride.

Biting his lip and sliding a long finger around the edge of his cup, Blaine pondered how to answer her final question.

It wasn't a surprising question at all, given how ardent he'd been about not going to the tournament. Brittany had desperately wanted to have Blaine there, begging and pleading with him to reconsider. Eventually though she'd seen the way his eyes gleamed with sadness, his lip twitching as he'd fought desperately not to cry. Blaine was done crying for Kurt Hummel.

After Blaine had torn out of Kurt's bedroom a little over a week ago he'd been a mess, utterly distraught and broken hearted so much worse than he had been after their first kiss, when Kurt had confused him with... (Blaine couldn't even think of his name without getting angry.)

Reconciled with Brittany, she'd come over after he hadn't replied to her calls or texts and crawled under the covers with him, despite his feeble and tearful protests. She'd stroked his hair and sung nursery rhymes, using all the wrong words until eventually exhausted he'd fallen asleep in her arms.

When he'd woken, curled up like a kitten in her arms he'd explained in the barest details he could, wanting to close the book on the whole experience. The one thing he did do was to make her promise to watch out for Sebastian, telling her that he was bad news.

Blaine was at a loss, what more could he do if Kurt was going to be so pig headed about the whole thing? Brittany had pursed her lips, her eyes focussed but flitting as if she was thinking hard. But she didn't say a word, just nodded stoically.

Over the course of the week he'd thankfully had studying to keep himself occupied, spending every available minute trying to cram as much as he could into Brittany's head and telling her over and over that she could do this, about how much faith he had in her. He skipped glee club and classes he shared with Kurt under the guise of tutoring Brittany, when really he just couldn't face seeing him.

It had been close in the hallway on the day of her test. Like Kurt was haunting him he could feel the hairs raise on the back of his neck, the sound of his voice and Brittany saying his name in his ear making him go rigid in her arms and he'd bolted away without even a goodbye.

He'd sat in his car for some time, trying his level best to control his breathing, gasping a little like a fish out of water. And maybe a small part of him had hoped that Kurt would run after him, would tell him how sorry he was, how utterly stupid he'd been.

But of course he hadn't. He hadn't sent Kurt a single text, phone call, message, hadn't tried to find him at all. And that's when it hit Blaine, why what Kurt had done had hurt so much. Because while he'd known there was no chance for them to be anything more than friends, he knew at least that he had Kurt's friendship. Even if it meant he couldn't have the one thing he'd wanted for so long.

But Kurt telling Blaine he didn't know him any more? Choosing _him_ over a decade long friendship? And now acting like Blaine didn't even exist? Well Blaine had come to the realization that maybe they couldn't even have _that_ any more.

The text had startled him, loud in the quiet car that only contained the sound of his breathing:

Jeremiah: _Coffee?_

It wasn't the first text he'd received from Jeremiah following the night he'd saved both him and Kurt from the clutches of Sebastian. But it was the first that had suggested a meeting.

He told Jeremiah everything, including all he'd left out for Brittany and he'd listened patiently, draining cup after cup of coffee his frown growing. "Maybe it's time you really let him go," he'd said at last when Blaine was exhausted from talking, reaching out to lay a hand on Blaine's.

Jeremiah had looked as if he wanted to say more but Brittany had bounded in, a broad smile on her face and ecstatically waving the B graded paper in his face. It was his first real smile all week.

Blaine hadn't seen him since but his words had played on his mind ever since. It seemed simple enough but also impossible. How on earth was he going to just let go when he knew there would always be a part of him that still belonged to Kurt Hummel?

"I don't like your face."

Brittany's harsh statement seemed to jolt Blaine out of his train of thought and he looked up at her, eyes showing their betrayal. Ouch. Way to kick a boy when he's down.

"When it's all sad like that," she explained, resting a soft hand against his. "It makes you look like a deflated birthday balloon."

Blinking Blaine stared forward at Brittany, noticing the thin moustache of chocolate coating her upper lip. Even that image couldn't seem to rouse a genuine smile. Everything in Blaine's world just seemed… hopeless. He shrugged, unable to articulate more than that simple gesture.

Brittany's nose twitched as she frowned at Blaine, her expression serious. It was oddly foreign to her usual spacey smile. "So you didn't answer my question. You just kind of went all, far away. What changed your mind about going? You said there was absolutely no way you'd go."

In the end though it had been the words of a younger Blaine to a younger Kurt that had been loudest in his head and heart.

_'I promise I will never leave you.'_

Blaine smiled ruefully at Brittany and told her, "I made a promise."

...

Puck had interrupted Blaine's break, begging him to watch the counter, '_just five minute's I _swear_ Blaine – just gotta call my bookie_' and had promptly put at end to his and Brittany's talk. She'd needed to go home anyway, wanting to check in on her cat to make sure he wasn't huffing the chemicals they kept under the sink because she hid his stash.

Of course Puck's idea of _just five minutes_ had stretched to over an hour with no sign of him returning. It wasn't the first time (or the last he'd wage with Puck's bookie) that Puck had vanished mid shift. Once he'd left for ten minutes to go get more milk and hadn't turned up until a week later: reeking of tequila, wearing sombrero, and sporting a rather infected looking tattoo of a donkey on his ass (which he'd flashed Blaine despite his protests.)

Usually Puck's absence wasn't too much of a problem, because Blaine was good at his job and organized enough to keep on top of things. However what he hadn't been aware of (and what Puck obviously had been) was that Quinn had invited her old crowd; T_he_ _Unwed Teenage Mothers Collective, _for their monthly meeting. It figured he wouldn't want to be here, seeing as he was probably responsible for about half of these pregnancies.

By the surge of pregnant teens coming through the door it seemed clear that Ohio was still neglecting to properly teach sex education in schools. And with the 50% discount Quinn had authorised for the group, combined with their sugary cravings that would be too sweet for even Brittany's taste, Blaine was floored.

Rushing between the milk frother, blender, cake cabinet and counter, Blaine did his best imitation of Ganesha whilst trying to hold the contents of his stomach in as he overheard snippets of conversation including such lovely phrases as: _vaginal prolapse _and c_ervical mucus. _

By the time Blaine had cleared the last table, the shop was nearly deserted and Puck _still _hadn't returned. They were out completely out of beans so Blaine made sure the till was securely locked before walking to the storeroom to retrieve a new bag.

It was a struggle to carry the bag to the counter, his tired, aching body slumping forward under the weight and his glasses slipping slowly down the bridge of his nose. With his arms holding tight around the bag he couldn't manoeuvre himself to push them back up and the world was millimetre by millimetre shifting out of focus.

Weaving through the shop he heard a familiar voice say his name and he looked up at the blurry shape of Jeremiah striding up to him. Blaine beamed at him, happy to see a friendly face (and thankfully no baby bump.) He plucked the bag like it was nothing out of his arms and dumped it on the counter and slide his glasses into place, shifting the world back into focus.

Blaine was about to open his mouth, his lips parted with word hanging on his tongue when Jeremiah did something entirely unexpected. Winding his arms snugly around Blaine's waist he drew Blaine towards him, inclined his head and kissed him softly. The pressure was so light that if Blaine hadn't had his eyes widened in surprise he might not have realised it had happened. But there he was, pressed up tenderly against his face for _one missisipi, two missisipi, th- _and it was over.

Despite the shock of it, Blaine couldn't help but smile, his fingertips touching the surface of his lips which still held the barest impression of Jeremiah's warmth. For just a moment Blaine listened to the steady beat of his heart inside his chest.

A flash of white and red in the window dispelled his calm, making his heart skip heavily in his chest. But all he could see in the window was a perfectly drawn heart in the mist, condensation fracturing the shape and making it look broken. And once again Blaine was reminded of just how broken he was.

Jeremiah was there though, pulling him into a warm embrace that had Blaine resting his cheek on his shoulder, his eyes sliding shut tiredly as a warm wide hand pressed into the small of his back.

Blaine could feel... _something, _but he didn't know what.

"Brittany text me, she told me you went," Jeremiah said at last, his voice low and close to Blaine's ear. "You okay?" he asked softly and Blaine nodded against his shoulder, pulling away slowly and standing up as straight as he could, despite the ache in his spine. "Y-yeah, I'm ok."

"Sorry," Jeremiah flushed a little, seeming suddenly nervous. It was odd for Blaine to see it, baring in mind how collected he always seemed to be and he cocked his head in confusion. "The uh, kiss?" he chuckled, squeezing Blaine's arm and Blaine face turned fifty shades darker than Jeremiah's.

"It's not that I haven't thought about doing it before," Jeremiah admitted his hand sliding down Blaine's arm to hold his hand, his warm fingers lacing with Blaine's cold ones. Blaine remained still.

"I just told myself I'd wait. But then you looked so sad and I just..." he shrugged, trailing off as he gazed down at Blaine who remained bright cheeked and stock still. It was a lot for him to take in.

"_Jeremiah..." _Blaine began but was cut off by a tight squeeze of his hand before it broke away. "Don't say anything just yet... think about it first, okay?" he asked, cupping Blaine's hot cheek with his hand. Blaine nodded and Jeremiah smiled before pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before he left leaving Blaine alone.

Blaine realised for the first time that his hands felt warmer than they had in days.

But the skin didn't _tingle._

...

"Se_basatard_!" Kurt heard Mercedes swear down the phone as he stormed into his bedroom. Flopping dramatically onto his bed he shoved a lumpy pillow out of the way, like its very existence had personally offended him.

After arriving home with his father an hour ago he walked around the house agitatedly retelling Mercedes more or less the entire story. From the night of the party, to his fight with Blaine and finally to Kurt and his father's fruitless excursion to the police station. As Kurt had feared, without a drug test or reliable witness it was pretty much his word against Sebastian's. Sebastian and his State's Attorney father.

Burt had valiantly fought Kurt's corner but even he knew the evidence was weak. Driving home his father had asked him why he didn't just go to the damn hospital when he had a chance. Kurt hadn't responded, but he hadn't needed to, Burt knew his aversion to the place after what had happened to him and his mother.

"I know, 'Cedes I know! It just… it kills me that he's just going to get away with this!" Kurt groaned loudly, punching the pillow off his bed with a mean left hook. Looking down at the feather leaking pile he imagined in graphic detail that it was Sebastian's decapitated head.

"What about Blaine or Brittany? Why shouldn't their testimonies count?" Mercedes' asked infuriated on her boy's behalf as Kurt stared at the clock on his night stand. The vivid red numbers indicated it was 11:05, meaning he'd now been on his phone for two hours and his father would probably be in bed by now.

Despite being grounded with the usual restrictions: no TV (whatever, ANTM was on hiatus anyway) and no phone, Burt had been gracious enough to let Kurt talk to his friend. He'd accurately established that Kurt had a lot he'd needed to vent, given the disappointing results of their trip.

Of course he still wasn't allowed to leave the house and if he hadn't already taken his car away that would be gone to. Looking forlornly out of the window Kurt sighed into the silence on the other end of the as Mercedes finished her epic rant in flawless divatude dialect.

"'Cedes… that's not even the whole story," Kurt breathed slowly, imagining his friends eyebrow raising. Beginning with his realisation at the meet he retold the Nicholas Sparks worthy tale of love and heartbreak. From realising his feelings for Blaine right up to discovering the Jeremiah factor and his fathers advice.

Timing Kurt.

As Kurt remembered the vague words of his father he sat up reaching for his pocket watch, a long ago birthday gift from Blaine that was lying on his night stand. Kurt ran his thumb over the old polished pocket watched, carefully tracing the engraved design of the bird in a cage and flipped it open frowning to see that it had stopped ticking.

"I'm buying us coffee and bagels tomorrow," Mercedes finally announced gleefully as Kurt caught his own scowl in the glass reflection.

"That's all you have to say?" Kurt snorted derisively, "What kind of gal pal listens to their best gay tell them a story of more woe since Juliet and her Romeo… and then talks about bagels for crying out loud?"

"I'm going to be loaded tomorrow when Santana pays me that $50. I knew you'd admit this before graduation," she retorted in a tone of voice all matter of fact.

"Well I'm glad my misery has been fruitful for you. I'm hanging up now and going to find better friends," he said tempted on hitting the end button on his phone.

"Oh please, like you'd find other friends willing to put up with your brand of crazy. Anyway forget that and tell me, how are you going to steal your man back?"

With a sigh Kurt snapped the lid shut, "I'm not going to steal him 'Cedes…he looked happy. After everything I did, letting him be happy is the least I can do. And besides…" he thought again of Blaine in Jeremiah's arms, leaning down to kiss him. "I don't even know if he'd want me… not like that anyway," he finished, his voice tired and resigned.

Kurt missed Mercedes' soft snort of derision down the line as he focused on the now warm circlet of metal in his palm, wrapping his fingers around and gripping it firmly. It didn't feel right not to feel the soft and constant vibration of it ticking inside the case and it reminded him a little too much of his own still and broken heart.

"Kurt…You deserve to be happy as well. One stupid fight shouldn't stop you from-"

"Cedes'… I'm tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?" he pleaded, rubbing the spot where he could feel a ache beginning in his skull. It had been a really, really long day.

Sighing down the phone she agreed and they hung up dropping the room into an unearthly silence. All that Kurt could hear were the twin snores of his brother and louder father as they slept. Looking at his clock again it was almost midnight and Kurt really did need to get some sleep.

But Burt's words kept chiming in his head, over and over.

_Timing_… _Timing_… _Timing_

Maybe his father was right. Now wasn't their right time.

But as Kurt got off his bed, pulled on a thick sweater and slid out his open window into the cool night air; he knew that it was definitely about time that he talk to Blaine.


End file.
